The Witch and the Rider
by LoyalIntrovert
Summary: Hermione Granger, the Ministry for Magic's top mind, is sent to Norway to assist in the identification of some newly discovered Runes. Little does she know that these unidentifiable carvings will send her on the adventure of a lifetime. She'll meet Kings and Elves, learn from Dwarves and Wizards. But what will happen when a Rohan Rider peaks her curiosity? *My Cover Image*
1. Prologue: The Assignment

****I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, if I did... Well I don't.**

 **This is my first attempt at Fan Fiction in MANY years. I'd appreciate any feedback, as well as a Beta! I do make my husband read through my chapters, and he gives me plenty of advice, but he also has to be nice ;)**

 **I hope you enjoy my story**

* * *

Prologue: The Assignment

"Ms. Granger, do you even live in your flat, or do you rent it simply to throw away your war earnings?" The young witch looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic leaning in the doorway of her office, his brightly colored robes contrasting against the oak frame. It was early morning, well before the rest of the Ministries employees would be arriving.

"Minister, you know that I'm devoted to my work, and yes, I have been home… recently." Hermione Granger's eyes twinkled in amusement as the Minister's rolled at the comment. "Did you need me for something, or is this just a visit? Would you like any tea?" She smiled, reaching for her wand as she cast a warming charm on her abandoned cup beside her.

"No, thank you, Hermione. As much as I wish this was just to catch up with a good friend, I am here with an assignment for you." The Minister stepped into the office, sitting on the small bench beneath her window, plucking a small candy from a dish on its ledge. "We've received word from our counterparts in Norway and apparently some Muggle Archaeologists have discovered some Runes at an excavation site and they are at a loss. None of their Muggle experts seem to be able to identify them, let alone translate them. Their Prime Minister reached out to their Magical Minister who has, in turn, requested the help of the Brightest Witch of her Age, who happens to be an expert in Runes."

"And the muggles? Any adverse effects from the group which discovered them?" Hermione's interest was piqued and the papers that were in her hand had been set aside.

"No, luckily for them one of their research assistants is a Squib and immediately warned them that they needed to call in experts to preserve the site, and to not touch any of the markings." Kingsley smiled. "Quick thinking on his part."

She nodded in agreement, moving to sit beside him on the bench, though she refrained from the sweets. "Well, when would you like me to leave?"

The Minister let out a deep guttural laugh. "Why am I not surprised you are so eager?" When she simply shrugged in response he continued. "I've already arranged a portkey for you this afternoon. I've already informed Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley that you'll be out of the country on assignment, I'm sure they'll be here any second, they've probably already received their owls."

"I'm surprised Harry isn't here already. You know he's very protective of Ginny and I ever since the war ended." Hermione smiled fondly. Since the downfall of Voldemort Harry's priorities had changed, especially when it came to family. The Weasleys became the most important people in the world to him, aside from little Teddy Lupin. Hermione became his sister, with all the trials they had faced together their bond was stronger than ever, and he was extremely protective of her-especially when it came to any assignments.

Despite her working with Ancient Runes, Harry still lived as though they'd be facing mortal peril at every turn. An attribute gained from spending his youth fighting a war that he had no choice but to fight. Most assignments of hers usually included an Auror tagging along as security, which Hermione loathed.

"I've already informed Mr. Potter that you would be going alone and that the Norwegian Ministry has security teams in place." The Minister winked.

"Thank you, Kingsley, I work much better when Harry hasn't threatened my security team." She chuckled.

"Ms. Granger?" She looked up to see Dennis Creevey, her research assistant, standing at the doorway. "Mr. Potter is here, Mr. Weasley, too."

She smiled, turning to the Minister. "Speak of the Devils…"

"And they shall appear." He finished, standing. "I'll leave you to it. An owl will be by shortly with your travel arrangements. Thank you, Hermione. I only send the best, you know."

"I won't let you down, sir." She led him from her office to see Harry and Ron standing next to Dennis' desk.

"Sirs." Kingsley nodded at the young men before him, turning to leave down the hallway.

"Well?" Hermione moved aside to let her two best friends into her office. "Go ahead, ask away."

They weren't even over the threshold of the door before the barrage of questions began.

"Where are you going?"

"Is this going to be dangerous?"

"I could have Thomas go with you."

"When will you be back?"

"You can tell Kingsley no, you know."

"Will you tell him you don't want to go?"

"Alright! Slow down or you'll be leaving and I'll answer by owl." She scolded them well enough to make Molly Weasley proud before resuming her seat on the bench. "You don't even know what my assignment is or where I'm going. Why do you always assume it'll be dangerous?"

"Because we're The Golden Trio which translates to Danger." Ron sighed, using elaborate quoting hand gestures.

"We're just worried, Hermione." Harry explained. "You know how protective we can be of you."

"I do know, and I hope you know that it's getting tiresome." She readjusted herself, wandlessly bringing her tea to her hands. The warmth brought comfort. "I'm simply going to Norway to examine some Runes at the request of the Norwegian Magical Ministry. That's all."

Ron and Harry shared a look of uncertainty.

"I mean it, guys. This is actually just business, not some undercover mission." She smiled. "I know, that as Aurors, that might be hard to believe, but I promise. This is bookworm stuff."

"I still think I should send Thomas with you." Harry said pointedly. "He's my best auror and I –"

"You will do no such thing!" She snapped. "If you take Padma's husband away now, when she is due to have their baby any day now I will personally hex you every day until that child turns 11 and then I will teach them to hex you on sight."

He paled at the threat.

"Don't even think I won't do it. You leave Dean out of this, and if you haven't put him on paternity leave I suggest you send an owl to Kingsley immediately before I do."

Nodding dumbly he walked over to her desk, grabbing a spare quill and piece of parchment, writing the request.

"Hermione, are you sure you want to go all the way to Norway?" Ron asked, sitting across from her on the edge of her research table, much to her annoyance. "It's far away. I could go with you?"

"Honestly, Ron you and Luna are getting married in a month, you have so much to plan. And Norway is not far away." She sighed, looking between the two men she had seen grow up so much, that she had spent her life with. She understood their concern. "I appreciate it, I mean it. How both of you look out for me, it means a lot. But I don't always need to be protected."

"Doesn't mean we won't always try." Harry quipped, not looking up from his writing.

"I wouldn't expect any less." Hermione smiled.


	2. Chapter 1: Norway's Welcome

****I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, if I did... Well I don't.**

 **This is my first attempt at Fan Fiction in MANY years. I'd appreciate any feedback, as well as a Beta! I do make my husband read through my chapters, and he gives me plenty of advice, but he also has to be nice ;)**

 **I hope you enjoy my story**

* * *

Chapter 1: Norway's Welcome

Hermione met Kingsley at his office, her beaded bag hanging from her wrist. She had dressed for Norway. Although it was summer she wore a light jacket, a long sleeved shirt, lined jeans and knee-high sheepskin boots. She also had a Norwegian to English dictionary tucked under her arm, as well as various maps. She truly was the brightest witch of her age. Or of any age, rather.

"Are you ready? You shouldn't be gone more than a few days, however if you need to extend your trip just let me know." He gestured to a small model Viking ship on his desk. "Here's your portkey, it will take you directly to the Norwegian Ministry. From there the research assistant who was with the muggle team is waiting to take you to the site."

"And the muggles?" She asked, eyeing the ship and her watch, noting the time. "Are they just going to allow a British National to come and take over their site?"

"They've been obliviated and have been directed towards a more interesting dig site that our researchers have shown to be quite promising." He explained. "You shouldn't have any interference."

"Alright, well I best be off, I'd hate to keep them waiting. What is the assistant's name?" She asked, adjusting the items under her arm.

"Fillip. He has been very cooperative with us, he seems eager to be working with you." The Minister smiled. "But then again, I don't know many people who aren't eager to work with you, Ms. Granger."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Minister." She chuckled.

"Or everywhere, if you ask my lovely wife." His eyes twinkled. "Let's not keep our friends waiting." He gestured to the ship once more, his robes billowing with the movement.

Taking a deep breath she reached forward and placed her hand on the trinket only to feel herself being pulled through a tube before noticing the world spinning around her.

The deep green and brown of the Minister's office changed around her to a rich forest green, with hints of the bright blue of fresh water. The familiar tug of magic warned her that she would be landing soon and to let go, bracing herself to roll into the descent.

As she landed on her knees she looked up to see mountains taller than she'd ever seen, and a bright blue river flowing between them. The air smelled crisp and clean and she found herself taking a moment to enjoy the sight before her. She heard a small 'ahem' from behind her and turned to see a small group of people waiting. One was an older woman, her hair in a large braided bun atop her head, with a wand seemingly holding it in place. She wore a sensible pant suit, white pants with a yellow top, and a brilliant smile to match. The gentleman to her right was much older than her; she'd have to guess closer to McGonagall's age. He wore billowing robes of a majestic blue and purple, trimmed with white. He seemed to mirror the mountain ranges around them, and his long beard and walking stick gave him an air of majesty.

The third, she assumed, must have been Fillip, as he seemed to be barely holding in his excitement as the sandy-haired young man waved at her, a beaming grin on his face.

"Welcome, Ms. Granger." The woman stepped forward. "My name is Maiken, I'm head of our Runes department. " She offered Hermione a hand, helping her stand before the trio.

"This is our Minister for Magic." She gestured to the elderly man before her. "Gjurd Bengtsson."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear." He smiled, bowing slightly. "We have heard many tales of your heroism. True Gryffindor courage, I believe."

"I do believe you are correct, Minister. It is an honor to be invited to work alongside you. I am curious to see the Runes." She smiled, placing her dictionary in her bag, as their English was quite fluent and she doubted she'd need it whilst working with them.

"We'll be heading there this afternoon, first we just need to get your paperwork in order." Maiken smiled, offering her arm to Hermione. "Shall we?"

The young witch nodded, looping her arm through Maiken's offered and felt herself apparating. The sensation, especially so quickly after having travelled by portkey, was enough to make her head spin. She stabled herself to take in her new surroundings. Again.

This country offered more beauty than she expected. The nature was marvelous, but their architecture was another entirely. A mix of ancient Viking carvings and Modern glass design surrounded her and Hermione could do nothing except marvel at the sight. She had only ever seen photos of the Det Norske Magidepartementet in Trondheim, but to see it in person is another thing, entirely. The paneled glass above her was arranged in an intricate pattern of diamond shaped pieces, all angled slightly to reflect against what appeared to be the bottom of a Viking long ship, much like her portkey. The illusion created could only be likened to that of moving water reflecting against a surface. Runes were etched into the glass, or along the exposed wooden beams, many Hermione recognized as protection runes. Others, however, were unfamiliar to her.

Before she could ask Maiken had produced a few leaflets of parchment from her pocket. "I took the liberty of translating our Runes for you; many of them are unique to our land."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh thank you! I was just about to ask what some of these were." She scanned the pages, briefly. "This is wonderful."

The elder patted the younger woman's hand fondly, as it was still laid against the crook of her elbow. "Anything for the passing of knowledge from one generation to the next."

They continued on through the halls and corridors, as they made their way to the Rune Translation Wing, which lead them outside, along a grassy ramp, and into an ancient looking wooden building, which, to the young Brit, looked like the underside of an upside-down ship. Inside the walls were lined with books and shelves, framed windows overlooked the rest of the Ministry grounds. The interior Hermione likened more to an ancient hunting lodge or mead hall, rather than an office.

The floors were lined with furs, rather than carpets, and at the center of the main hall were two in floor fire pits, with floating tea kettles dotted above the coals. There were raised alcoves, on either side, near windows but far enough away that the fire would not impede any research with its heat. The tables at each station looked worn and ancient, with runes carved into the legs.

In fact, she noticed, there were Runes carved into everything around her. The window frames, the book shelves, even the lining beams of the fire pits.

"Welcome to my sanctuary." Maiken smiled. "This is where we have studied the Runes of our Lands for a thousand years, and hopefully a thousand more."

"This is wonderful!" The brunette beamed, taking it all in.

The group made their way to Maiken's office. A warm room, with plenty of seating and bookshelves to spare, overlooked a fjord unlike anything Hermione had seen before.

The paperwork was the typical forms the young witch was expecting. Non-Disclosure, Upholding the Statutes of Secrecy, Injury Liability and Non-Liability. The norm.

Her excitement and curiosity were beginning to boil over as she found herself drumming her fingers as Maiken signed the same forms before handing them over to Gjurd. He pulled a pair of half-moon spectacles from his robes and Hermione couldn't help but smiling fondly. He reminded her of Dumbledore, and she missed her former headmaster.

"Well," He finally spoke. "It appears everything is in order. Fillip here will take you to the site. So as not to draw too much attention you'll be travelling by helicopter, if that is alright?"

She nodded enthusiastically. Helicopter. Airplane. Hippogriff. She didn't care how she arrived there, she was simply anxious to begin. The longer she was here the more her mind began to unload question after question onto herself.

How old could these Runes be, to be unidentifiable?

Are they even Runes?

How will we be able to translate them, if we can't identify them?

Following her hosts Hermione found herself out on a large landing pad, a helicopter already prepped, blades spinning. Fillip magicked some cases to himself, shrinking them down to fit in Hermione's beaded bag. "We'll need these!" He shouted over the thump-thump-thump of the blades.

Nodding her thanks to the elder officials who would be staying behind she turned and had to will herself not to run to the plane with sheer joy. Once aboard the craft and buckled, Hermione couldn't help but giggle slightly as the helicopter lifted off the landing pad, turning slightly away from the building and heading towards the mountains. She thought she'd go deaf if Fillip hadn't handed her a headset.

"Better?" He asked; his voice garbled slightly through the mic.

She nodded. "Much. How far away is the excavation site?"

"About 50 miles or so, as the crow flies. Trollheimen Park is vast, and luckily we have been granted aerial access by the Muggle government. Since this is a national park they tend to be very picky about who, and what, can fly over."

"Understandable. So tell me more about this site." Hermione turned towards the young man as he pulled a tablet from his jacket.

"We found what appeared to be a small cave dwelling on the western edge of Gråsjøen Lake. We assumed it must have served as a remote hunting or fishing site for one of the known villages. But we still went ahead to check. Upon seeing these Runes, however, I knew that I needed to get the Muggles out of there." He pulled up some images and her eyes grew wider witch each one. She'd never seen anything like these.

"I had the same reaction." He smiled at her. "I knew the muggles were out of their league, I believe that Maiken simply obliviated them after they attempted to translate them on their own, many times, and failed many times."

"Scientists and Researchers can be very stubborn, regardless of Muggle of Magical." She smiled back. "You should know that."

He nodded. "I do, we managed to locate another interesting site for them to research, so I am grateful they'll still have that."

The statement made Hermione glad. Many witches and wizards would simply obliviated and then leave, not offering any sort of closure to their victims.

"We'll be there in about 15 minutes, and then we'll have to portkey again the rest of the way there. I know it isn't the best method of travel, especially twice in a day." Fillip shrugged meekly. "However, we can't exactly take a cab."

"I understand." She nodded. She knew that more likely than not she'd be sick after the next apparation.

The rest of the helicopter ride went smoothly, Fillip eagerly showing Hermione the pictures he had taken of the site before it was cordoned off. The structure of the cave had her guessing that this was more than just a hunting site. There were benches and shelving carved out of the rock and there were wooden beams serving as supports, similar to what you would see in mines. The runes were etched on all walls, in massive stanzas. The same etchings seemed to be repeating themselves. She attempted to zoom in on the pictures using the tablet, however, the quality of the image waned and she ended up more frustrated.

"I guess I'll just have to wait until we arrive, I can't enlarge these images anymore." She turned back to the young man who had been rereading his notes. "Did you feel anything when you interacted with the runes?"

He shook his head. "I didn't do anything with those runes. I didn't touch em; I didn't try to get close to em. I took the pictures and then got us out."

"But-" She began, but suddenly the captain's voice was in her ear.

"Vi er på landingssonen." His voice crackled and she looked back at Fillip with a cocked eyebrow.

"Is that good?" She asked.

His laughter surprised her.

"We are at the landing zone, so yes." He smiled at her. "That's good."

Hermione looked out the viewport of the her window to see greenery creeping its way up the purple-gray stone faces of the mountains on either side of a sparkling lake, its waters lapping gently at the shore under the push of the aircraft. She could barely make out the outlines of structures along the shoreline opposite of them, which was good, in her mind. Less chance of having to explain anything to more muggles, the better off this expedition will go.

Disembarking the helicopter and watching it fly off allowed Hermione to take in her surroundings. The slight ripple against the shore allowed the stony beach to shimmer under the sunlight. Green hills butted up to the towering mountains around her and she found herself smiling at the scenery.

Then she found herself laughing.

Fillip looked at the witch in confusion. There didn't seem to be anything comical around them, and he couldn't figure out what was so humorous.

"Ms. Granger, are you alright?" He asked.

She nodded, tears threatening to blur her vision.

"It's just… some friends of mine thought that I'd be in danger on this expedition!" She was gasping at this point. "Here! In the mountains! What am I in danger from? A steep hill?!"

The Nord smiled at her. "I'd still keep an eye on the hills. There's old magic in these mountains."

It took the young woman a minute to right herself, the raucous laughter had left the smile on her face, and she couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so heartily about something so simple.

"Are you ready?" He asked, pointing towards the southern tip of the lake. "We'll be heading in that direction. You'll want to hold tight, the terrain we'll have to portkey to is not very stable, and I don't want to risk you dropping off the cliff while I stay grounded."

"That sounds fair. I'm ready whenever you are." She nodded. He extended his arm out, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling the witch close. He pulled out a small stone with an etching on it from his pocket.

"If you could, please?" He held it out to her. "Squib, and all."

She smiled, tapping the stone with her wand and muttering the spell. Since she hadn't been to the location she had to reach her wand up to his temple and pull a wispy memory from his mind. She watched as the sting of light encircled the stone before disappearing.

"Here we go." And the all familiar sensation of being sucked through a straw surrounded her. She'd definitely be sick when they landed. Her vision blurred around her and her senses were rattled. She could barely focus on Fillip's presence, let alone that he was attempting to steady her.

When she felt firm ground beneath her feet her eyes hadn't caught up with the change in gravity and her stomach paid the price. She turned away from Fillip, embarrassed. She was surprised when she felt him pull her hair back from her face, securing the wild bun with a pen from his pocket.

"Too much for one day?" He asked sheepishly, rubbing her shoulder. "Sorry, we should have planned for that. The magical community here uses this form of transportation every day. I suppose we are used to it."

She nodded. "I'll be fine, really. I just need to rest a minute."

"Of course." He sat beside her, fishing out a few bags of snacks he had stowed away in his pack. "Here."

She looked over and saw a small bag of chocolate covered pretzels. "Eat, you'll feel better."

She smiled fondly at the words, a favorite saying of a dear friend.

"Words of wisdom." She replied, taking the bag. "Thank you, Fillip."

They ate in silence, the sweet and salty snack settling Hermione's churning stomach. The view further up the mountainside was breathtaking, unlike anything she'd ever seen. You could make out the shadows of the clouds moving over the rolling hills and the breeze blowing ripples through the brush. The jagged edges of rocks contrasted the lush greenery, reminding her of the architecture of the ministry buildings.

"Fillip how did you know that the Runes were magical?" She asked, turning to her companion. "There's nothing in the pictures to indicate any sign."

He shrugged, chewing the rest of his snack before replying. "It wasn't so much as I knew they were magical, but I could feel them. Once I realized the others weren't feeling them I figured it was wise for us to leave."

She nodded. "Probably for the best. If they are any sort of muggle-repelling ancient wards it could have ended much worse than scrambled memories."

"My thoughts exactly. I was surprised, however, that I could feel them at all. Being a squib, you become accustomed to the … differences, I suppose, in how magic reacts to you. So to feel such powerful magic I knew that this was not something to take lightly."

"You have very good instincts, Fillip." Hermione smiled. "Let me know if you ever want to come to Britain to study Runes. We have a marvelous internship program."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Open to squibs?"

She nodded. "Open to all members of the magical community. We had a centaur last year. She was sweet."

"I might have to take you up on that. But for now, should we head out? Are you feeling better?" He stood, brushing the crumbs off himself before offering his hand.

Hermione took his hand, pulling herself up. She could see the opening of the cave, maybe a ten minute trek up the hillside along a winding trail that hugged the incline. She was glad that her Muggle upbringing ensured that she had worn proper attire. Her hiking boots supported her well; there was no room for the delay that a rolled or twisted ankle could cost. Witch or not, an injury takes up time.

Keeping close enough to Fillip as they began their ascent her mind wandered to why any ancient peoples would have a cave this high. It could have been a place of great spiritual significance, or perhaps an isolated prison. No, a prison wouldn't make sense; the Nords didn't use the sort of psychological torture that an isolated prison would instill. She kept thinking back to a place of worship, perhaps a place for the elders to commune with the Gods. Often times the elders or shamans of many cultures would carve meaningful runes and symbols into their temples, as a way to mark their worth. If this was, indeed, holy ground it would be logical to assume that's what these markings are.

But, Hermione thought, that still leaves the question, where did this magic come from?

She would soon get her answer, as she looked up she realized that her train of thought had led her to an important question, and that her feet had already deposited her at the mouth of the cave.

Fillip's description of being able to feel the magic was surprisingly accurate. The slight throb of energy poured of the cave in waves, washing over Hermione.

"Oh my goodness." She whispered before heading into the cavern, past Fillip. "I didn't think it would be this strong."

"I'm glad it wasn't only me!" He smiled at the witch in front of him. "To be honest I've had dreams of this place ever since it happened. Something calling me, something more than energy or magic."

Hermione nodded. "That's very common with Ancient Runes, especially if they haven't been seen for centuries. They yearn for contact. To be witnessed. Runes want to share their magic however they can."

As they came into the main cavern Hermione's eyes lit up at the scene before her. The walls were practically glowing with magic, the carvings lighting the expanse of the cave. The same stanza repeated on all sides of the cave, the same as in the picture.

"Could you be a prayer?" She whispered to herself, inching closer to the runes while digging for gloves in her beaded bag. "Or maybe a song?"

As she slipped the fabric over her hands she began measuring the runes above her, getting accurate dimensions to give scale to the photographs. Fillip stood behind her, getting pictures for posterity's sake.

"Fillip, please note that the two carvings on the North and South walls seem to be about 1.2 metres by 54 centimetres. The etchings are roughly 3 centimetres deep. These are phenomenally well preserved." Hermione glanced around the cave, noting that there was no additional evidence to show that they weren't the first occupants of this cave for some time now.

"We have samples currently out at a muggle lab in Oslo for some carbon dating to accurately date some of the carved benches in comparison with samples taken from the floor." Fillip explained. "We should have the results back any day now, but based on magical aging spells, these seem to be about eleven hundred years old."

"So about as old as Hogwarts." She mused, staring at the etchings. "This is amazing and appalling all at once."

"Appalling?" Fillip cocked his eyebrow as he looked at her.

She nodded. "Mhmm… because I have no idea what these say." She stepped forward, getting as close as she dared. "I've studied Runes of every language, culture and era. Magical and Muggle. But these… these are an unknown."

Hermione smiled at the lettering as she ran her gloved finger over the edge of the bottom line. "What do you say; care to tell me what you mean?"

As she ran her hand along the etching she immediately knew she had made a mistake. Her magic felt as though it was exploding from her skin. Thinking quickly she turned to the young man who was watching her with a concerned look.

"Document this." She stated; her voice straining. "Then back to the ministry, find Maiken!" She screamed the last sentence as she felt herself engulfed in flames, though she could not feel the heat. This pain was from her magic, not whatever was happening around her. The cave around her began to fade, the flames growing higher and higher until they completely obscured her vision. She clutched her beaded bag to her chest, whatever was happening to her she could not lose that bag.

Her magic boiled, writhing within her like a geyser waiting to erupt. She could feel her power coursing through her, trying to escape. The flames became brighter and more intense, crackling around her. She could no longer see Fillip and trying to call for him was useless, she couldn't even hear herself.

What is happening? She thought to herself. The pain was quickly overwhelming her senses, and for once Hermione couldn't think logically.

Her last thought to cross her mind was Harry and Ron waiting for her owl that wouldn't come.


	3. Chapter 2: Imladris

****I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, if I did... Well I don't.**

 **This is my first attempt at Fan Fiction in MANY years. I'd appreciate any feedback, as well as a Beta! I do make my husband read through my chapters, and he gives me plenty of advice, but he also has to be nice ;)**

 **I hope you enjoy my story**

* * *

Chapter 2: Imladris

Birds. She could hear birds. Why were there birds? Hermione attempted to open her eyes, the act exhausting. She had to blink several times; her new surroundings were _much_ brighter than the cave. Her vision steadied and she could see warm ivory walls, with pillars leading to a balcony rather than windows. The room felt like comfort and the light wooden furniture with vines carved into them reminded her of her wand.

Where was her wand?

The thought had her sitting upright instantly, the pain shooting throughout her body. Looking down she noticed that her clothes were gone and she was in a white and ivory gown, similar to a nightgown. Panicking, she glanced around the room, eyes darting to various points, before she let out a sigh of relief. She saw _both_ her wand and bag sitting atop a table across the room. But then she noticed the man sitting _beside_ the table.

He had long dark hair and blue eyes that were striking beneath defined brows. He had on long crimson robes, similar to those of the Wizarding world. Atop his head sat a silver circlet, the bauble glittering in the sunlight coming in. It was then she noticed his pointed ears.

He was no man.

She was staring at an Elf.

"It is good to see you are finally awake. It has been several days since you were found within our borders, unconscious. " He stood, gliding over to her bed almost soundlessly. "My name is Lord Elrond. Do you know where you are?"

She shook her head. "I don't, sir. My name is Hermione Granger."

He frowned. "You have a strange name… Hermione." He seemed to struggle with the word.

"She is a strange young woman." Hermione turned to the door to see an elderly man in long gray robes, leaning against a wooden staff which was adorned with a rough crystal at the end of it. His robes were a dark grey, with fraying and mud showing his travels along the hem. He had a long gray beard that sat against his chest and his eyes twinkled as he stared at the witch. "She is our salvation, Elrond."

The Elven Lord turned to the young woman sitting on the bed, shocked.

"Tell me, my dear," The older man walked into the room, sitting himself at the foot of her bed. "How did you come to be here?"

She looked between the two strangers. She was clearly out of her element and wasn't sure how to proceed. The Statute of Secrecy was running through her mind as she struggled to remember all of the laws and bylaws that might allow her to explain her circumstances. Normally she could, but her mind seemed foggy.

"My name is Gandalf the Grey; you are in Rivendell, at the Healing House of Lord Elrond. Would it be better to have your wand?" Her eyes shot to the elder, searching his for any indication as to how he knew that's what it was. He merely chuckled at her reaction. "I know what you are. So am I." He whispered and the crystal in his staff began to glow.

Hermione nodded wordlessly. Could she trust them? She had no idea who they were. As she leaned over to swing her legs off the edge of the bed she was halted as Elrond was already at the table and bringing her the wand and the bag.

"Please." He held them out to her. "You are safe here."

She took her wand and pointed it into the opening of her bag. A small metal basin flew into her hand and she set it on the bed before them. Elrond gently set the beaded bag beside her on the end table and watched her carefully.

"May I have some water?" She asked.

Gandalf handed her the pitcher from the opposite end table, however she stopped him when he also reached for the glass. She poured the contents into the basin, slowly filling it to the brim. She tapped the edge of it gently and the water stilled, not a single ripple muddied its surface. She brought her wand to her temple and thought hard about the past half day. The assignment, Norway, Fillip. Images crowded her mind as she extracted the memory. The wisp was drawn from her skin, eliciting a gasp from Lord Elrond and a chuckle from Gandalf.

She took a deep breath. Glancing at the two men she steadied herself.

"I… I am not sure how I ended up here. I will try to explain what I can. I am from England and I am a witch." She eyed them carefully, gauging their reaction.

Not even a flinch.

She breathed a sigh of relief and continued. "I am very well known where I am from, for my knowledge of Ancient Runes, and my knowledge in general. I was asked by another country's magical community to assist them in identifying some runes found in a cave. From there, I'd have to show you." Hermione gestured to the basin on the bed. "This is a pensieve. It will allow you to witness my memories. You will not be able to interact with anyone in the memories, only observe. Do you understand?"

The two men nodded, glancing curiously at the basin. She took a deep breath then leaned into the liquid, submerging her face. The water didn't chill her skin as she found herself floating back into the cave, seeing Fillip and herself staring at the wall.

She felt Elrond and Gandalf's presence before she heard them. "We were in the mountains in Norway, a northern country noted for its mountains and fjords. These runes had been found and I was called to investigate." She explained, moving towards her memory self, making note of the distance and any outward anomalies before…

As her mind trailed off she saw what was about to happen and watched with intent. Memory Hermione began to scream at the young man in the cave with her. She was clutching her bag to her chest as he screamed and reached for her.

Hermione frowned as she saw the scene unfold.

"This isn't right." She whispered. "This isn't what I saw."

There were no flames engulfing Memory Hermione. She was simply standing in the cave, screaming, and then she was just gone.

As the memory ended the three observers found themselves back in Hermione's room.

"There were flames." She looked between the two men. "I was surrounded by blinding flames that stretched taller than me. I was _engulfed._ " She had tears in her eyes. "I am not crazy and I _don't_ hallucinate."

Gandalf patted her hand. "My dear child, we believe you. Your clothes were burnt when you were found. It was as predicted. For we also know what was written on those stone walls in your world."

Elrond nodded. "Those Runes were meant for you, Hermione. No one else would have been able to activate them."

"Activate what?"

" _Send your finest to the Middle Earth Plains. Send your brightest to quell the shadow. Send with haste, send with flames. Send your bravest, send your hero."_ Lord Elrond strolled to the balcony. "It was a plea from long ago."

"From who? How long ago?" She sat on the edge of the bed, afraid to try to stand unaided.

"From my mother, Lady Galadriel. She dwells in Lothlorien Realm. It was sent three thousand years ago. On the eve of battle, when Men and Elves were to march together into Mordor. Into shadow. She hoped that she could send a plea across the world, to call upon the one who could save us. Who could aid us in that terrible war."

"Three thousand… But the dating on the runes in that cave were less than half that!" Hermione explained. "Best we could determine they were just over a thousand."

"Time works differently in many realms. You should know the secrets of time, Miss Granger."

At the statement her head whirled around to look at Gandalf again. Secrets of time… how would he know that? How _could_ he know that?

Unless… his eyes. They twinkled as if he knew the punch line of a joke untold. The way they smiled before his mouth did. Another image of the man came to the forefront of her mind and she gasped. She imagined him with half-moon spectacles and purple billowing robes, a phoenix behind him and a bowl of lemon drops in front of him.

"Professor?" Her eyes welled up and she could feel the tears falling. "Headmaster, is that you?" She cautiously reached for his hand. "A-Albus?" She sobbed.

"It is good to see you, my dear. I would've told you, but you are the brightest witch of your age. I knew you'd figure it out." She sobbed as he pulled her close. She collapsed in tears on the bed, her head buried against the wizard. "It is alright, dear. I know this is quite an onslaught of information for you to process."

"You-You died!" She cried, clutching his grey robes. "I helped bury you! I mourned you! How are you here? How did you survive?"

Her former headmaster pulled her to look at him and wiped the tears from her face. "That is a story for another time, my child. I promise I will tell you, for you deserve to know the truth. But, for now, be content with the knowledge that I am alive and well. Here, at least, I am Gandalf the Grey. But we cannot delay, Hermione. We must prepare you. I do believe it would be easier for you to learn of the woes of this world from Lord Elrond's library."

"You still haven't explained…" She paused. "Why me?"

"Send your bravest. Send your hero." Gandalf smiled. "You are the epitome of Gryffindor Courage. Lady Galadriel called for the bravest. Feats of strength were not what she sought. Warriors are plenty in these lands. She called for the bravest. Bravery comes from your heart, not from your strength."

"My mother knew that only someone extraordinary could help us. Could save us." The Elven man moved back into the room, his grace seemingly effortless.

"You still haven't explained _when_ I am, pro… Gandalf." She caught herself. "I know you said I was in Rivendell… but where is that? I've never heard of this place, even in ancient texts."

"You won't find Rivendell in any ancient texts, Hermione." Elrond explained. "You are currently in Middle-Earth. It is October in the Year 3018 of the Third Age."

"3018?" Hermione's vision blurred again. "Wh-Where is your library?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"Library? Child you must rest." He looked to Gandalf. "Why would you suggest the library? She is clearly still weak."

"That is simply the way of Hermione Granger. She will learn more than we could ever teach her from the pages of your tomes. Only then would she have her answers." Gandalf sighed, standing from the edge of the bed. "We should take our leave, let her get ready for the day. We should send Lady Arwen in to help her, if you'll approve my Lord Elrond."

He nodded, turning back to the young woman. "Lady Arwen is my daughter, she'll be along shortly. We had some gowns made for you, I'm afraid your garments were severely damaged when my guards found you at the borders of the canyon."

Hermione looked down at the gown, a small smile on her face. "I thank you for protecting my modesty."

The two nodded at the young witch before leaving the room. When the door shut all she could hear were birds. Simple chirps and songs filled the air. Her mind wandered to Harry and Ron. They'd be so worried. Harry would probably have gone with Kingsley to meet with Gjurd Bengtsson when she hadn't owled.

Her eyes swelled with tears once more. After the war, after Voldemort, why would she ever have to worry about fear or danger again? She worked in Runes! For all intents and purposes she had one of the safest jobs in the Ministry.

And Dumbledore… Gandalf… how would he ever explain that? Harry saw the green light. He heard the words from Snape's very mouth. Even Snape's memories hadn't indicated that he knew Dumbledore was alive. She had mourned the loss of her Headmaster, a mentor and a friend.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. A beautiful woman appeared in the doorway.

"Hello, my name is Arwen. I am here to help you adjust to Imladris." She smiled softly and flowed through the room with the same grace as her father. "I have some gowns for you in here."

She opened a wardrobe on the far side of the room and inside were many gowns, all perfectly tailored to fit Hermione's form.

She gently stood, taking easy steps as she crossed the room, grateful for the patience of Arwen. She reached for the fabric, feeling the softness of the sleeves beneath her touch. "I can't accept a gift like this! One, perhaps, but this is an entire wardrobe!" She protested as the elf simply smiled at her.

"You are an honored guest, lady Hermione. We treat our guests with honor and do not see these as gifts. My father has told me who you are, how you came here by my Grandmother's plea. I remember when the guards brought you here, your clothes were burnt and you were wrapped in the cloak of my brother Elladan." She smiled at the young woman before her. "Accept these, not as a gift, but as a necessity. You cannot wear the healing robe forever."

Hermione blushed, looking back down at the white gown she wore. She knew that Arwen was right, she needed clothes. But these gowns are fit for royalty!

"Which would you like to wear? I do believe that the green would suit you." The elf murmured, seeing the look of acceptance on her face. "Or, at Gandalf's suggestion, we did have a red and gold one made for you, as well."

As she pulled out the garment Hermione felt her tears well up again. Arwen held up a gorgeous crimson gown. It had a gold ribbon under the bust and along the hem, and lions were sewn into the skirt with a delicate stitch. It was beautiful, and it was a beautiful acknowledgement to her house.

"This is lovely." She whispered, her voice catching with emotion. "I'd… I'd like to wear this one."

Arwen handed her the garment and helped her over to the changing screen on the other side of the room. Behind the intricately designed partition Hermione began untying the healing gown that she had been wearing, taking great care to attempt to hide her scars from her companion. She knew she'd probably have to explain them to Lord Elrond, as he had already healed her and had most likely seen them already. To try to reiterate what each of these blemishes truly mean to the young witch would be a discussion she did not possess the strength for.

The elf could tell that the younger woman was modest, simply by how she shied her body away as she undressed. Such actions are uncommon amongst the elves, with such long lives; simple trifles such as nudity haven't bothered members of their race for some time. However, out of respect, she turned as the young woman laid the garment over the edge of the partition screen. Arwen held the dress up to allow her to slip underneath without exposing herself.

As the fabric slid against her skin Hermione was surprised at the lightness of the dress. Instead of the thick weight of velvet the dress felt more like silk. The dress hugged her curves without being overly tight, simply showing the shape that clearly defines a woman. The neckline scooped, sitting just off her shoulder, and only accentuating her collarbones. The thick golden ribbon across her waist did compliment her bust, one she had often thought on the small side, by defining her waistline. Below the ribbon was her favorite part: the embroidered lions. They started at hip level, increasing in number down the length of the skirt until there were dozens along the hemline. The thread glistened in the light making the embroidery dance with every movement.

Arwen pulled the laces through the back as Hermione ran her hands over the skirt, relishing the smoothness beneath her fingertips. She could tell the young woman had apprehensions about her stay amongst the elves, but her father had not told her much about their new guest. She didn't speak as though from Gondor or Rohan, and Arwen couldn't begin to identify her accent. The realm of Middle-Earth may be vast, but being the daughter to the Lord of Rivendell, she could still easily discern where one was from.

She tied the last ribbon, straightening the laced string as she smiled to the younger woman. "There is a mirror in the wash room if you'd care to look. I'll grab some slippers for you before we depart to the library." Arwen offered with a gesture to another alcove near the partition screen.

Hermione felt… almost giddy as she made her way to the other room, her bare feet padding along the floor. As she turned into the entryway of the powder room her breath caught in her throat. She was beautiful. The last time she thought she looked beautiful was for Bill and Fleur's wedding when she wore the red dress that was destroyed when…

She shut her eyes, her breath coming out in shudders. She couldn't do that. Not now. Once she could discuss everything with Gandalf and Elrond, then she could think of home. But, for now, she must focus on the task at hand, and that meant one thing: The Library of Rivendell.

Taking a moment to steel herself she began to attempt to smooth her hair. She glanced around and found a few brushes and combs laid on the counter for her near the water basin. She tentatively traced one the elaborately carved handles with her finger before picking it up and attempting to guide the bristles through her unruly curls.

The lack of resistance made her gasp and she turned to the mirror once more. Where she had just run the brush was no longer unruly frizzy curls that had topped her head since childhood. Instead there were soft ringlets, glistening as though she had just used an entire bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. She repeated the action, on a different section of hair, to find the same result. She ran the grooming tool through the rest of her wild curls until nothing remained but smooth honey-brown ringlets that fell just past her shoulders, softly brushing the ribbon tied at the back of her dress. She laced her fingers through the strands, marveling at the smoothness.

"Are you almost ready, Hermione?" Arwen called from the other room.

"Yes!" She replied, setting the brush down and swept non-existent dust off her dress. With one last glance in the mirror she took a deep breath and took the step back into the chamber.

The elf looked up as she exited the room. "You look lovely." She smiled.

Hermione's cheeks tinted red. "Thank you." She fiddled with her hair for a moment. "What… What was on those brushes? My hair hasn't been this smooth since I was a child!" She found herself gushing like a teenage girl again.

Arwen chuckled. "It's a conditioning salve. I wasn't sure if your hair was so dry and coarse due to however you ended up in the woods or not, so I made sure to give you the brushes with the salve-dipped bristles. I apologize if it has upset you."

"No!" The witch exclaimed, shaking her hands out of her hair. "Not at all! I think it looks amazing, I just wasn't expecting it, was all."

The elf relaxed, she had not wanted to upset Hermione, especially while she was still healing. "Would you like a tour of the gardens? It's on the way to the library and I thought you might enjoy a stroll and fresh air." She suggested.

The gesture made the young woman smile. "You know, that would be really nice." She nodded. "I appreciate it."

The elf held up a hand, waving away such formalities. "I know that if I were confined to a healing bed for days on end I'd want whatever small glimpse of leisure I could indulge in."

As they made their way down the corridor Hermione caught a glimpse of Elrond and Gandalf in another room. There was a small being on the bed, perhaps a child. She didn't think much of it, they had told her that she was in the Healing House, and it would make sense that she was not the only patient.

As they neared the end of the corridor she could hear water, perhaps from a fountain, that grew louder and louder as they approached the archway. Her eyes grew wide as the view of Rivendell unfolded before her.

Elaborate pathways led through intricately designed garden beds, the products of which filled the air with delicious earthly scents. Flowers and other perennials surrounded her, yellows and oranges and pinks and greens, the colors swirling around Hermione, engulfing her senses with their beauty. Fountains and benches were placed throughout the gardens, their stonework sparkling in the sunlight of morning. Vines crept up the walls of the surrounding buildings and archways, creating an illusion as to the buildings and gardens being one.

As they walked Hermione could see many elves working in the garden, attending to many different tasks. Some were harvesting the plants, picking vegetables and flowers to attribute to the feast planned at sun down, others tending to the plants, pruning and watering the greenery. Many noticed her and Lady Arwen walking along the paths, bowing as they passed.

Hermione didn't know what to make of the bowing. She understood, knowing Arwen's title as the Lord's daughter, why they would bow to her, but their eyes had been on the witch.

"Let us sit, we might not be noticed as much if we do so." She smiled, motioning to a bench that was a bit further out of view. "You must forgive our people for their curiosity. You are a newcomer whose healing has taken most of my father's attention."

She nodded her understanding as she listened to the elf. She brought up a good point and Hermione had to agree with her. She was a stranger in this land, and strangers mean curiosity. They knew as much of her as she knew of them.

"I do understand, and I hold no… ill will towards them." The witch thought carefully about the wording of her statement. She had quickly noticed that the speech here was more complex than she was used to. "I understand their intrigue."

Arwen smiled. This young woman seemed to be mature beyond her years, and that meant there was history there. Not many of the races of men were so mature at such a young age. Those that were had usually been exposed to evils that no youth should see. She looked up to see another pair of elves watching the two women conversing on the bench, whispering amongst themselves. "If you are still uncomfortable we could make our way towards the library."

Hermione nodded. "Yes please, I am very anxious to see it." Her cheeks tinted a slight shade of pink at the statement.

The two stood and began the rest of their walk. It was mostly in silence, Arwen not wanting to overwhelm her father's guest, and Hermione unsure of what to say.

As they reached the steps up to the Library the smell of faded parchment and ink filled the nose of the witch and she practically ran up the steps at the familiar smell. She walked under the archway and found herself standing at the outer ring of a basilica. The upper floor held many books and tomes, with a balcony around the walkway. The ground level where Hermione stood gaping with wonder held many more shelves of tomes and books, as well as scrolls of parchment. Maps and other paintings lined the walls, as well as Runes like she'd seen in the cave. She felt tears coming to her eyes as the sensation of a new library washed over her, stirring a memory of a bushy-haired little girl staring at the Hogwarts Library for the first time.

"This is amazing!" She gushed to Arwen before she could help it.

"I am glad that you approve." The two women turned to see Lord Elrond and Gandalf behind them. "This library has been expanding for many an age."

"Would you like some assistance?" Gandalf asked, his eyes twinkling. "We do not expect you to memorize _all_ of the history of Middle-Earth; however we may be able to guide you to key texts and accounts."

Hermione nodded. "That would be nice, actually. I'd like to start with the war that stirred your mother's plea."

"I'll leave you to your research." Arwen smiled, laying a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I am here if you seek a friend."

Her eyes nearly glistened at the remark. She knew that before the week was over she'd need to seek out Arwen for just the purpose of talking to a friend. She smiled, nodding at the elf and squeezed her hand. "Thank you, Arwen. That means a great deal to me."

The elven woman smiled, turning to Elrond and Gandalf to nod before descending the steps.

As she stood before her elders Hermione took a deep breath. She was here to do what she does best. Learn.

"Well." She clapped her hands together eagerly, startling her audience. "Shall we get started?"


	4. Chapter 3: The Task at Hand

_Authors note:_ _Thank you all so much for your kind reviews! I am so sorry for the delay, we had a major life shift in my family and unfortunately I had to put my writing on hold but I am back!!_

 _Thank you for those that told me of my mistake in the relationship between Elrond and Galadriel! Unfortunately I am unable to fix it yet due to lost files *sobs* but, nevertheless, I deeply appreciate the input!_ _Also, since I have no alternative but to write this story on a mobile device I am so sorry for any formatting errors._

 _I am still, sadly, not the owner of Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. *sigh*_ _Anyway, here is chapter 3, like I said I have lost files, so if you notice any discrepencies between this chapter and those prior please let me know and I will do my best to remedy the errors._

 _Enjoy, my lovelies. :-)_

Chapter 3: The Task at Hand

Hermione sat before Lord Elrond and Gandalf, her eyes weary and her mind bursting at its seams. Tomes and scrolls lay before her, her own notes and translation keys amidst the history of this new world she found herself in. Studying for O.W.L.s and her N.E.W.T.s hadn't prepared her for the barrage of information she willingly exposed herself to. Her background in Runes had proved quite beneficial to her work in translation and she soon found herself not needing them except for the occasional obscure word or phrase.

"So, to be sure I understand this... Sauron was, in fact, once a man?" The young woman looked to her elders for confirmation, receiving a nod from both. "A man, who like many others, became drunk with a power which, in turn, became a desire to lure all before him to bend to his will... I must say I tire of this story." She dropped the quill before her, rubbing her brow. Three days she had spent amongst the shelves and aisles of Elrond's impressive library attempting to absorb the history of 3 ages. To say she was exhausted would be an understatement of epic proportions. The two men noticed the strain and had tried, unsuccessfully, to lure her away from the library if even for a moment. Hermione had all but barricaded herself in the rotunda, with no desire to leave until she felt she had learned all to know of Sauron and his rise, fall and reappearance.

"Young one you have read the same words again and again, will you not step away from the library?" Elrond stood, extending his hand. "A new perspective can unlock new questions, perhaps."

The Witch looked up on the elf with a knee jerk reaction of 'of course not, can't you see I'm studying?', a look Gandalf had seen many times in his tenure as Headmaster. But the offer seemed to work as Hermione's shoulders slumped and she pushed away from the table.

"You are right." Standing brought an ache to her body as she stretched herself upright. "A walk around the gardens might be what I need. Prof-I'm sorry, Gandalf, would you come with me? I'd like to get your view on things."

"Of course, my dear." The wizard stood, smiling at his pupil. "Will you be joining us, Lord Elrond?"

Shaking his head the elf smiled at the pair. "I'm afraid I am needed elsewhere. Decisions must be made, and my people are looking to me. Enjoy our gardens, my Lady."

Sunlight reflected from the brook that ran through the immaculately kept flora of the Rivendell Gardens, yet they seemed so natural and untouched. A true sign of the magic and power of the elves, a power seemingly drawn from the Earth itself. Hermione found herself taking deep breaths of fresh air, a reprieve from the smell of parchment. The thought surprised her, the scent of books and ink once brought her a comfort unlike anything else. But that was, quite literally, in a different world. Her thoughts began to drift to home, the memories of Hogwarts, of Harry and Ron.

Tears stung and began to blur her vision when she felt a hand on her shoulder, reminding her that she had invited her former headmaster with her to the gardens.

"I'm sure you are beginning to feel the implications of your presence in Middle Earth." Theistarisighed heavily. "I'm sorry that you must, once again bear such a heavy burden, Miss Granger."

She smiled up at him, wiping her eyes. "I don't see this as a burden, I suppose. More of another adventure." Hermione spotted a bench nearby, Gandalf following her gaze. As they sat upon the sculpted granite she sighed heavily. "I'd imagine I should be used to this, by now. Although... this is not the same as defeating Voldemort. I am also not the child I was then."

"No." The old man smiled. "You are definitely not a child any longer. I must say, and you must forgive your old headmaster's nostalgia, I'm very proud of the woman you seem to have become. The Ministry of Magic Rune Department is of the most famed in the world, to be their leading expert, at your age no less, is no easy feat."

Hermione nodded. It was true, her predecessor had held the office prior for over 50 years and was well over 100 when he had retired. For her to step in, not even 30 was quite a shock to the magical acedemic community.

"I'm not the brightest witch of my age for nothing." She smiled lightly. "I... I want to help here,Gandalf. I do... I just can't help worry of how this is affecting Harry and Ron. Time has only strengthened our friendship, especially after we lost you, sir. They must be so worried."

Gandalf nodded, his eyes downcast. "I wish things had been different. However, here we are and we must make the best of this situation. Tell me, Miss Granger, what do you think of Rivendell?"

"I do believe that it is a formidable base in the north against anything that Sauron may have-" She paused as he raised a hand to gently halt her train of thought.

"You misunderstand my question. I wish to know what you think of being here. How the city makes you feel: does the sound of the waterfalls calm you? Or the soft music that seems to always fill the air? I seek your opinion, not your analysis, Miss Granger." His eyes twinkled as she pondered the question.

"It's ... easily the most beautiful and ethereal place I have ever seen. There is a sense of calm here that seems to surround the city, I've never been anywhere like it."

"It's the magic of the elves, they are unlike any beings I have ever known, this life or the last." He took a deep breath. "I wish I could promise the same of the rest of Middle Earth but each realm is far different from any other. My dear, there is a darkness coming, and only together will this world and it's people survive."

Hermione nodded, the words of Galadriel's prophecy ringing through her mind.

"However, Sauron was not expecting a Gryffindorto come along, of that I am certain. Do not forget that it is you who was called here, not your ability to study and to learn. The end of this war will not be found amongst the written word. It will come from it's people... and I do believe, from you."

"I am, worried, though... that even if we succeed... will I ever see home, again?" The tears returned, and this time Hermione could not keep them at bay.

"I know many things, many answers to questions unasked... I do not have the answer you seek my dear, and for that I am sorry. I can only offer that you will not bear this alone. I see now that I may have been wrong to suggest the library to be the source of the answers you seek. Perhaps you should seek the answers within yourself. They may have been there all along."Gandalf squeezed her shoulder before standing. "I will leave you to your thoughts, Miss Granger. Please do not be saddened by the circumstances in which you find yourself, I only ask you make the best of them and overcome as you always have."

The young woman smiled as he departed. Middle Earth may know him as Gandalf the Gray but he was, most certainly, still Dumbledore.

The sun was beginning to descend behind the canyon wall, flowers began closing with the fading light as Hermione remained on the bench for what felt like hours. Gandalf and Elrond were right, there was only so much she could find in the library that would actually prove fruitful. She needed to take this one day at a time, there would be no other path to success. This wasn't some rogue faction, driven by a sad boy trapped in the body of a man. The war for Middle Earth was a battle of good and evil, plain as that.

Perhaps, she mused, that was her mistake... She couldn't compare this to fighting Voldemort. This was completely different. The tomes she had immersed herself in painted a picture of a purely evil soul with no regards to life, only power. A power which had not yet been achieved, but seeing the mark left on this world by the mere attempt of reaching it frightened her deeply.

"No." Hermione whispered. "I am not afraid. I am merely misunderstanding something. What am I missing?"

The young woman stood, the grass rustling beneath the hem of her gown. Each step seemed distant in her awareness, her mind focusing on the task aheadand nother current surroundings. Sauron was the epitome of what Voldemort aimed to achieve, to know that he still had goals to meet his total domination sent shivers down her spine and Hermione found her arms wrapping around herself to calm the sensation.

"How does one fight a common enemy when those on the same side are still divided?" She whispered. One thing she learned from her research was the tensions between the races still remained among the races of Middle Earth. Men, Elves and Dwarves were very much isolated, as they seemed to have become wary of one another after Sauron bestowed upon them the rings of power. Could it stem from the number of rings each race was gifted? Something as simple of wondering why one race seemed favored over another? It made sense, there were fewer leaders of the Elves, only 3 would be needed to influence that race. The Dwarves and Men had many more factions and inner kingdoms, more rings would be needed to spread the cancerous power of Mordor.

"I swear, sometimes people can be so dense, immortal or not." She mumbled, leaning down to smell an interesting looking flower before her on the path. She had travelled a good distance through the garden, she found herself in an alcove nestled against the canyon wall. A tall tree stood over a small table and chairs, however the set did not seem inviting to the young witch who had spent the recent days hunched over written words.

Inhaling the scent deeply she was greeted with an aroma that reminded her of vanilla and cinnamon. An odd scent for a flower, certainly, but calming and familiar to Hermione and she relished in it. The smallest familiarty would be welcomed with open arms to thewitch.

A rustling behind her alerted her to an observer and she turned quickly, her posture stiff and defensive. She was met with the sight of Arwen, holding two cups of something warm, steam rising over the tops.

"Ada said I might find you in the gardens.Gandalf left you here quite some time ago and I must admit I was concerned. Would you care for some tea?"

Her heart soared at the thought of a cup of tea. Of all things familiar a cup of tea had been a staple in her life since childhood.

"Thank you,Arwen." She smiled, reaching for the mug. "I am sorry for worrying you. I'd reached a point where I could no longer study and so here I am..." Taking a sip she sighed contentedly at the taste. Citrus and ginger. Her favorite.

She looked towards the elf curiously, an eyebrow arched.

"Gandalf suggested the blend."Arwen chuckled. "Would you like to talk about what is troubling you?"

Hermione's shoulders slumped' "Back home I was... am... considered the brightest witch of an age... yet here I am struggling with what seems unsolvable. I am truly at a loss on how to discuss this threat. It may just be because I am not of this world that I am so... well...stumped."

The elf nodded, moving to sit at the table as she listened to the witch's woe.

"I have watched my father struggle as you do for many years over the threat from the East. I fear that we may be nearing another great war."

"I am afraid he may be right." Hermione bowed her head sadly. "One which cannot be fought alone."

"Perhaps not as alone as we may fear. My father and Gandalf have spoke of potentially summoning a council of all the leaders of free Middle Earth. Ada is unsure if such a meeting could take place, however." She stirred her tea slowly. "Perhaps you should speak to them of their plans for the meeting, maybe you could give insight to them both, and them you."

Her head shot straight up. A council? Yes! That is just the solution she needed. A forum to show the evil that has come, to address the threat for what it is, a threat to all. Elf, Man or Dwarf-none would be safe, so all must unite.

"Arwen that is it! Thank you!" Setting the tea down she quickly hugged the elf, earning a chuckle from the woman. "I must find Gandalf immediately!"

With that she ran off, leaving a bemused elf in her wake. She swiftly found herself climbing the steps of the library rotunda two at a time and she bound towards Elrond's study. She found the two men she was looking for, along with Elladan and Elrohir.

"You must call the council!" She shouted. "It is the only way! This is no problem for one race of Middle Earth, but all of them! And only together can we defeat him. United we can succeed, remaining divided will only seal the fate of this world!"

Her chest heaving with exertion she took in the faces of her audience. Elrond looked concerned, her entrance had him convinced something was wrong until he heard her request. The twins looked both amused and intrigued by the newest guest of Imladris.

Gandalf sat with a twinkle in his eye.

Hermione had indeed found the answer she needed in the gardens.

"My lady how did you know-"Elrond began.

"Arwen said you had discussed the idea with Gandalf but were hesitant, due to the uncertainty of cooperation. Invite the leaders with the promise of neutrality. An open forum to discuss the threat to all of Middle Earth. To put it into terms of my people, put the ball in their court." Hermione now had a beaming smile on her face, her cheeks still rosy from her jog through Rivendell. "Show them the threat we are facing together and that only together can we find a solution."

Gandalf turned to the Elven Lord with a beaming grin. "It seems Galadriel had, indeed, chosen correctly."

"Perhaps my uncertainty was... misplaced. I may have allowed Middle Earth affairs of state cloud my decision." Elrond nodded. "I will dispatch riders at once to all the great halls. My sons, gather our best horsemen to the stables. I will have my summons ready by dawn."

"Yes father." The young warriors bowed before departing from the office swiftly, both nodding at the witch as they left.

"You present an excellent point that I have missed, My Lady." Lord Elrond sat behind his escritoire, gesturing for her to sit across from him. "I shall send for them to join as soon as they can, if all understand the urgency we should have them all here in a months' time."

Hermione nodded, pleased it would not take longer, considering that the only means of travel were by horse. "That allows me plenty of time to study more on the races of your world so I may provide better input at this meeting."

He paused, looking to Gandalf who merely shook his head knowing the objection the elf was about to present.

"I am not so sure that your presence will be welcomed by all at this council. While we acknowledge your wisdom, which is well beyond your years, you will still be seen as ... well, a woman. A woman who would have no place among the delegates."

The Witch was taken aback. "With all due respect My Lord if you think I will allow myself to be barred from this meeting then you are sorely mistaken. I'll not allow some archaic sexist stigma keep me from speaking my mind." She crossed her arms defiantly, her eyes locked on the ruler of Rivendell. "I dare you to stop me."

He chuckled at her display, clearly seeing she would not be swayed. "I see...I shall allow it, but do not say I did not warn you."

Gandalf let out a booming laugh. "I daresay she may have warned you, old friend. If there is one thing I know for certain it is tha tMiss Granger is, indeed, a force to be reckoned with."

Hermione smiled brightly in her little victory. "Great. Now that it is settled I wish to discuss my stay in Rivendell."

Both men looked at her with surprise. "Surely you do not wish to leave, Miss Granger?" Gandalf asked.

"No, certainly not. I was simply hoping I could perhaps learn some basic... well, fighting for lack of a better term. I may be skilled with my wand but I know little in the arts of sword fighting or archery. With your permission LordElrond I wish to train with your warriors."

He nodded. "Of course. You'll find many capable masters here able to take on a student. I will arrange for it by the end of the week. Though I have a request of my own. I do wish you to rest while you can. The future beyond the council is uncertain. You have been through a great deal, already my dear."

"I agree with Lord Elrond, Hermione." The Istari commented. "You do need to rest and heal before the delegates arrive, and certainly before you begin any training."

She nodded her agreement, they were right. She was exhausted but had managed to distract herself with the task at hand. If she wanted to prove her worth she couldn't do it if she hadn't fully recovered first.

"Then I think I'll go to bed now. It has been a long day. I promise I will be ready to help in any way that I can in the morning." Hermione smiled brightly. "Goodnight." She stood, nodding to Elrond and reaching out to squeeze Gandalf's hand. "Thank you, professor."

That night, as Hermione lay in her chambers, the Lady of Light gazed upon the Mirror of Galadriel, the sleeping form of the witch before her.

"Welcome, Lady Granger. I have waited for you."


	5. Chapter 4: Awaiting the Council

First I must apologize for the delay. A few days after posting the last chapter I had to say goodbye to my beautiful grandmother as she left this world. She was an amazing woman and encouraged my creativity in whatever form I chose. I am not much of a faithful person but she was so I like to think she is in the heaven she believed in.

I have to say thank you to all my kind readers. Getting the notifications and emails got me out of this ... funk that grief had left me in. You all are my angels.

Please enjoy this chapter, it was a trip to write.

I still don't own HP or LOTR *double checks bank account* yep, no dice. I've also tweaked timelines a bit, especially since I don't own them I kinda feel like I can.

~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~•~~~~~~•

While Rivendell awaited the reponses of Elronds invitations weeks had turned to months and Summer had begun to reach its end. The nights were becoming crisp, the dawn often encompassed by a rolling fog through the canyon. The leaves would begin to change soon, and with it the fate of Middle Earth.

Many had sent word that they would come to Imladris, but not with the haste that Elrond had hoped. Many would take weeks to arrive, or in some cases months. Hermione used this time to begin acculturating herself to Middle Earth, and the ways of its people.

The Masters of Rivendell had been quite impressed at the aptitude of their new student. Her will in both spirit and strength rivaled that of their own kind. If not immersed in the library's wonders Hermione was often found at the end of the archery range, her aim improving with each passing day. The Gyffindor found the bow a much more suitable weapon for herself than a sword, perhaps due to the skill of casting magic across distances rather than close combat.

Gandalf had travelled to the Shire, something about visiting an old friend. Hermione had, at first, been rather tense in the days following his departure. Arwen had noticed and offered to help in either her trainings or studys so she may not be so alone while the wizard was away. The witch appreciated the companionship, and often spent hours with the she-elf either exchanging stories or even minor training.

Glorfindel, at the behest of Galadriel, had arrived in Rivendell not more than a week after Elrond dispatched his riders. With him he had brought a bow and quiver made by the finest craftsman of Lothlorien for Hermione.

The gift had brought a great sense of pride to the witch. To be granted such an honor was not unnoticed by her, nor was it unappreciated. The carvings matched those of her wand and she made note that it must have been due to the Lady of Light's visionary prowess. The quiver contained arrows lighter than those she trained with, yet struck their targets with enough force to split posts.

She began to notice her physical appearance changing as well as her skills. She no longer required the salve brush Arwen had gifted her when she arrived. Her hair has become soft waves that reached the middle of her back, the color of golden honey. Weeks of training had toned her body to that more of an athlete than an academic and it proved fruitful to her new regime of sword fighting, archery and hand-to-hand combat. Even the cartilage atop her ears had begun to form points.The witch spent hours upon end honing her new skills, knowing full well she had much to learn and not very long to do so.

Unbeknownst to Hermione one afternoon immersed in her training; in the balcony above the courtyard Glorfindel and Lord Elrond watched the young witch as she practiced throwing Elven daggers.

"She is astonishing. Our Lady Galadriel had told me of her powers and skill, but to see it with my own eyes... I am awed." The Lothlorien commander looked to Elrond with a curious gaze. "Has her magic changed since coming to our world?"

The briar haired elf shook his head. "From Gandalf's accounts, and what I have seen, her Magic has only strengthened, however; she is cautious of those who see her use it. I believe she fears word of a new Istari may reach Sauron's forces and make her a target before she would even leave the valley."

Glorfindel nodded. "A wise strategy. You say she has already seen war and battle?"

"She faced a dark wizard in her youth. He had targeted a dear friend and she helped defeat him and his forces before she had reached adulthood." Elrond smiled at his friend's surprised expression. "I know, I had the same reaction. She is, as you said... astonishing."

"My Lords." The pair turned to see a young elf before them. "A message has arrived for you, from the morning scouts." He extended a small scroll, clearly sent by a hawk.

"Thank you." Hastily unfurling the parchment at the messengers retreat Elrond's face quickly reflected that of shock.

"Elrond. Friend what does it say?" Glorfindel looked quickly to make sure they were, indeed alone.

"A scout has observed a group of Nazgul in the Shire. They passed through Bree not three nights ago. They are tracking someone."

"Gandalf perhaps?" The Lord of Rivendell handed the scroll to his friend, bracing himself against the balcony railing.

"I am not sure. Glorfindel if Sauron has dispatched the wraiths... his power is growing, and quickly." His gaze travelled to the witch below as she pulled her daggers from their embedded places in her target. "You must return to Lothlorien, and make haste. Lady Galadriel must know."

The warrior nodded, reaching to grasp Elrond's forearm. "I will send word to you once I have arrived."

As Glorfindel left the elf standing alone felt a sense of dread sink into the deepest part of him. The evil of Mordor had never spread this far West in decades. Now there were wraiths within a weeks ride. Surely Gandalf would not allow himself to be tracked across the countryside.

Closing his eyes Elrond began to focus on events to come. The gift of foresight was never easy to control, he was not as powerful as Lady Galadriel in this regard. If he could just glimpse anything surrounding the Nazgul...

Suddenly a piercing scream filled the air and jolted him from his concentration. Looking to the courtyard he saw Hermione slumped against Arwen, her knees buckling beneath her. Turning swiftly he descended the stairway towards the pair. Kneeling beside them he helped his daughter lay the young woman on the grass who had begun thrashing against them. The witch was cold to the touch, her skin damp with sweat and her eyes glazed over. She was clutching her shoulder, gasping and sobbing.

"Aragorn!" She wailed, scrambling back away from the elves. "Strider, help!"

Father and daughter stared at each other in shock. Hermione had yet to meet the dunedain ranger, and they doubted she learned his alias among the library archives. The witch continued struggling against the unseen, Elrond beginning to murmur a sleeping spell in hopes to calm her.

The magic began to take hold but her inner magic retaliated, coursing through her veins; army facing an invasion. Her body began to glow, a blinding light emitting from her form.The yells grew louder, echoing along the valley walls as Hermione was quickly overcome with pain.

"Ada, help her!" Arwen cried, her eyes frantically searching her Father's expression for any sign that her new found friend would be alright.

The gaze the she-elf was met with was that of uncertainty and fear. For all his magic and wisdom he knew not how to help the writhing woman before him. Shaking his head the Lord of Imladris quickly pulled Hermione into his arms and ascended the stairs to the House of Healing. Elrond was delving deep into his inner knowledge of the healing arts. A sleeping spell should have eased the pain which tells him this is dark magic. The magic of Sauron.

Arwen was on his heels, circumventing her father as soon as they had reached a room. Clutching a basin with water and rushing back to their side she quickly wrung out a cloth. The moment Elrond had set a sobbing Hermione atop the sheets his daughter took her place on the bed, kneeling beside her friend, gently wiping her brow.

"Ada, her arm!" Arwen whispered, moving her hand away. From the collar of their ward's gown black tendrils flared across the pale skin of the woman. Moving the fabric away the elves could see the infection coursing through her body.

"Step away, my friend." The pair turned, in shock, to see a bloodied Gandalf struggling to cross the room. "I'm afraid this is beyond our power. Arwen you must ride now, as swift as the wind. Aragorn travels here with four hobbits. One of them carries the key to turning the tide of Mordor's shadow, and I fear he is tied to the fate of Hermione, now." Gandalf gasped weakly as he moved towards the bed with the aid of Lord Elrond. "They were on their way here from Bree, by my guess they must be past Weathertop."

"Gandalf, you are hurt, you must li-" The Elven Lord made his way towards the wizard.

"You can heal me when we save her, we need Athelas, now!" The wizard stumbled to the floor, kneeling against the bedframe. He quickly tore the gown away from her shoulder, ripping the garment knowing Hermione would not be modest in such a moment. A wound marred her skin, an angry gash deep in her flesh.

"Athelas? Poison? Gandalf she has been in the courtyard with Arwen all morning!" Elrond quickly opened the apothecary and pulled out the Kingsfoil ointment, handing over the jar. "Surely you do not believe she could not have been poisoned here amongst the elves!"

"I most certainly do not." The wizard whispered sadly. "I owe you an explanation my friend but now is not the time. We must do all we can for her or I fear we may lose our witch."

Closing his eyes Gandalf laid his hand on Hermione's shoulder, spreading the balm over her skin, the black tendrils becoming raised and angry. The light emitting from her form grew brighter, covering the room in a bathing light that blinded the two men for a moment. Her cries turned to wails as the pain seared every nerve in her body. Her blood became fire, her skin felt as though it would fall away.

In a flash she sat up and grasped Gandalf's arm with white knuckles, looking up in shock her mentor met her eyes, a brilliant amber staring back at him.

"They've found him, Gandalf. They found him. R-Riders." She gasped before another wave of pain overcame her and she fell back to the bed with one final scream before she slipped into darkness. The light faded and soon her chest rose with the steady beat of sleeping breaths.

"Does she mean the Nazgul, Gandalf? How could she know of the wraiths? I only received word myself, not but a moment ago." Elrond whispered, helping the old man from the bedside.

"I do not know. I only shared a few details of my venture to the Shire, and my purpose left aside entirely." As the pair made their way to an adjoining room the wizard sighed deeply.

"The one ring has been found, Elrond. One of the Hobbits in Aragorn's care has carried it from Bag End with the intent of meeting me here, in Rivendell. Though, Aragorn was not meant to guide them alone. I met with Saruman, after I had set Sam and Frodo on their way..."

Gandalf regaled his past few weeks to Elrond as Hermione remained in a state of slumber. With an attentive mind and a terrified heart the Elf Lord listened resolutely, silently. Not only were the Nazgul west of the Misty Mountain, but one of Middle Earths most respected figures had betrayed them all. Such events had not happened for many years, darkness so near to Imladris.

The elf stilled, his face pale and etched with anger. "Did he do this to you? Has he truly turned to such evil?"

"Turned and aligned as though he had never been a member of my order!" The wizard growled, his anger boiling to the surface. "He imprisoned me in Orthanc like a dog, beat me to tell him what he wanted to know but I refused. I was only just rescued by Gwahir in time. If the message had not reached the great eagles I would surely be no more, or worse."

"How does this affect Hermione? She has not met the Hobbits or Aragorn. Lady Granger was training in the courtyard before she was overcome by some unseen force, calling out for Strider. She called him Strider, Gabdalf! How could she know that name?" He gathered a fresh basin and cloth for the wizard, sighing as he set them before his friend. "The wound on her shoulder. That looks Morgal, Gandalf. I have not healed such a wound for many hundreds of years. That magic is... was gone. Cast out from the world. I... I'm no longer sure of my ability to aid her."

The wizard nodded, rubbing his face tiredly. "I fear she is tied to the one who carries the ring. If so, and I hope to be wrong, then something terrible has become of Frodo. He may be in a similar state, Hermione is a very powerful witch; she'd have more protection against the dark magicks of this world. I fear that the only help Hermione can receive is her own. We must allow her to rest and wait for the council. They will be arriving any day now, I imagine. It is imperative that Arwen reach Aragorn and the hobbits before the Nazgul. If they fall into the hands of the enemy… we would be doomed" A sad smile crossed his face. "Forgive me for sending Arwen into the fray of this but she is your fastest rider and I trust her as I do you."

Elrond nodded. "I understand, my friend. Arwen will make it back in time, I am sure. For now you need to rest. The Hobbits are at least 3 days walk from here. We must be ready for their arrival." The elf stood, brushing his hair from a tired brow.

"And Aragorn?" Gandalf inquired. "Are you ready for his arrival?"

The Istari saw his friends shoulders stiffen slightly. "I made a promise long ago. He would always be welcome amongst the elves. It is he, and he alone, who has chosen a life on the run. A life in exile."

"Perhaps he feels exile is better than disdain."

The elf turned sharply towards the wizard, his mouth open with a retort that was abruptly extinguished.

"You can not deny what one has seen with their own eyes, not for all the magic of the elves." Standing wearily Gandalf continued. "Make your peace with the man who holds your child's heart, Elrond. We need him now more than ever."

He brushed past Elrond, stopping only to view the witch, assuring she was still asleep, before painfully trudging to his quarters. The wizard's words echoed in the realms of the elf's mind. He held no disdain for Aragorn, not as himself. It was Men. Men who, in their fleeting lives, act on impulse and emotion, leaving logic to the wind. It was how all Men had been, how they would forever be.

Stepping lightly he entered Hermione's room, noting the sweat that was dripping off her form. His brow furrowed in confusion. The window above her bed was open, a cool autumn breeze fluttering the drapes, surely the draft was felt. Placing The back of his hand against her skin he sighed sadly that she was still ice cold. The marks on her shoulder had begun to bubble beneath the balm, the poison being drawn from an invisible wound.

"Gandalf!" She cried quietly, not opening her eyes. He could tell the plea was not entirely her own.

"Sleep, child. You must rest." He smoothed the hair away from her temple, reapplying a fresh damp cloth to her skin. He left the room silently, wanting to not disturb her. He left word with another healer to find him should she awaken, leaving the poor girl to her slumber.

His steps echoed in the corridors and deep in his mind as he made his way to the hidden balcony behind the falls. This secluded refuge had been utilized as a study, a reprieve, his place of comfort. Along one wall carved from the rockface was a simple mirror. Framed in silver leaves the ornament caught the fading light and flickered it across the floor in shards of color.

He approached the mirror, his eyes swimming in their own reflection. He whispered low in Elven, watching the glass intently before the image before him faded away. Soon a woman stepped into view. Her skin pale as a dogwood petal and her hair as light as the moonbeams themselves, she stared back at Elrond with a benevolent gaze.

"It has been many ages since you have used the mirror. What has happened, Elrond? I know Glorfindel has already crossed your borders and is returning to the Wood." She cocked her head slightly, knowingly. "It is the witch."

Elrond nodded. "The power of Sauron has beenfound; My Lady, and I fear she is tied to the Hobbit who carries the One Ring across the Wild Lands to Imladris. The Nazgul have been seen in our midst and Gandalf tells me that Saruman has betrayed us all." He looked to the Elven Queen in desperation.

"There is no doubt that troublesome days are to come. We have no choice but to unite and face them." Galadriel stared intensely at the father of her grandchildren. "Calling forth a council is but the first step in halting the growing shadow in the East. There is no course to be altered, Elrond. The ring has awoken and Sauron will stop at nothing to regain it. We must all stop at nothing to ensure he never returns to power."

The Lord of Imladris paced before the mirror, his hands shaking. "I know all of this, my lady. What plan could we have against the dark Lord? How am I to unite us?"

"Perhaps..." She smiled a soft, yet beaming smile. "It is not you who must unite them."

"Then who? Who could bring bitter enemies together after generations of resentment and ill placed anger?" He sighed.

"The Lady healing in your house. It is possible she may be key to more than we know."

His steps ceased at the statement. "Of course. I was wrong to suggest she not attend due to her being a woman, that is the change the peoples of this world need to see."

"You told her not to attend?" The queen in the mirror arched her perfect brow. "I am a woman yet I am present at all councils and gatherings of our people. Do you suggest her power is less, due to being a woman?"

"O-Of course not my lady, but even you must admit that the Elves are enlightened beyond those of others in Middle Earth." Elrond sighed. "You are right, of course. I was wrong to suggest it. She denied she would be barred, anyways, so the point is irregardable."

At this the Lady of the Wood smiled. "She is spirited. Do not try to hinder her for she may be key to saving us all."

Hermione's eyes opened to blinding light and her muscles screamed in protest as she brought her hands to shield her face. The sounds of birds and passing guards greeted her ears. A clinking of cutlery made her head jerk towards the sound, a groan escaping her. She saw Arwen sitting at the small table in the corner of the room, a small cup of tea before her. When the elf noticed her companion was awake she hurried to her side.

"You're awake!" She smiled broadly. "I was worried, father and Gandalf said you were incredibly weak and that time would tell."

The witch tried to reply but found her throat was dry. She gestured for the cup at her bedside, relieved Arwen understood immediately. "You must be tired, but would you like me to tell them you've awakened?" The she-elf offered.

Hermione shook her head, holding the cup in her hands. "I am sure they will be by soon enough, they needn't be bothered, I suppose. How long was I asleep?"

"Three days. I have only returned last night."

She turned to her friend, shock on her face. "Three days?! What happened? I remember training with you and... then..." She stopped, her brain struggling to remember the events.

"You were overcome by magic. Ada said he would explain everything once you were ready for visitors."

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to gather them. I thought... I thought I had simply fainted." Hermione whispered.

Nodding slightly Arwen squeezed her hand before leaving the room. The hands holding her cup trembled as she attempted to remember what happened to her. Flashes crossed her mind of hooded figures, stone ruins, a man with a torch and a sword holding the creatures at bay whilst four... children? No... not children. Hobbits! She'd read of them, the people of the Shire. They'd huddled against the ruins. One of them was hurt, blood soaking his vest at the shoulder.

Then she realized she was bandaged. The same shoulder. She touched the dressing gingerly, the wound beneath flaring from the pressure.

"You may want to wait until Lord Elrond can examine you, my Lady." Looking up at the doorway Hermione saw the man from her memory, the one with the Hobbits. "My name is Aragorn, Arwen asked I stay with you while she found Lord Elrond."

"You were with the Hobbits... You saved them. How do I know that?" She seemed unsure of the words as she spoke, the memories causing her temple to throb. "Forgive me... I am not feeling quite like myself at the moment."

He nodded silently, moving to sit at the same small table Arwen had sat. If he questioned how she knew of the attack he did not show it. "I am sure, my Lady. You've been under the healer's care for days, now."

Hermione took another sip of water, the refreshing liquid helping clear her foggy mind. "I am having trouble remembering what has happened." She watched him carefully, and he returned the gaze. She noted his armor, heavily worn and clearly battle tested. His cloak was torn in places and dried blood confirmed the theory that he'd seen conflict recently. "You are a Ranger of the North, aren't you? A dunedain?"

His head quirked in surprise. "I am. Forgive me, if my memory serves me we have not met before. There are few who can recognize a Ranger so quickly."

Smiling she looked at her lap shyly. "I have read of your kind. Protectors of the North, graced with long life."

"Ah." He chuckled. "Gandalf did mention you were an apt scholar. Even for one as young as yourself."

Hermione laughed at the polite comment. "He would call me scholar, wouldn't he? Gandalf has known me since I was very young. He encouraged my studies while other children teased me for it."

"Gandalf has always been able to see the best in others, even if they did not see it themselves..." He trailed off the thought, his eyes becoming briefly distant before shaking his head. "Arwen tells me you've been training with her. She said you were gifted a Lothlorien bow, a grand gift."

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear she nodded, blushing. "I am still not sure it was a gift of which I, in particular, am worthy but I do cherish it."

"Lady Galadriel would not have granted such a gift if she did not believe you were worthy, my dear." The pair looked to see Gandalf at the doorway, leaning against his staff.

"Gandalf, it is good to see you." Aragorn stood, reaching his hand forward to grip the wizards forearm. "When you did not meet us I feared the worst."

Nodding the old man gripped the rangers arm similarly. "I must thank you for completing the task nonetheless. I see you have met young Hermione."

The Ranger smiled. "We were discussing her training with Lady Arwen."

"Ah yes, I do believe that there is no field of Study that Hermione can not master, battle tactics included." The wizard smiled, moving into the room. He settled himself at the foot of Hermione's bed, the young witch adjusting herself to allow him to sit. "How are you feeling? You gave us a bit of a scare."

"I am feeling much better, thank you. Though..." She shifted slightly. "To be honest, Gandalf, I am still not sure what happened."

"I will take my leave, if you wish, my Lady." Aragorn offered politely.

"I don't think that will be necessary... I remember seeing you, what happened... it might have something to do with you." She gestured for him to resume his seat at the small table. Once he had sat she continued. "I remember the courtyard, Arwen was teaching me to have better form with my bow. The next thing I remember is pain, blinding pain. My shoulder felt like I was being stabbed with a white hot poker. I felt magic, Gandalf. Dark magic. It coursed through me faster than I could counter it."

"Gandalf... That is the same wound Frodo suffered." Aragorn breathed. "How is that possible, for her and the Hobbit to be afflicted by the same attack?"

Sighing Gandalf shook his head. "I do not know. The dark magic, Morgal magic, is ancient and it's mysteries still remain unknown. Somehow you are connected to Frodo."

At the word 'Morgal' Hermione's brain began cycling through facts and lore in an instant. Sauron used that magic. Used it to enslave many to his cause.

"No." She whispered. "Not to Frodo." The men looked at her curiously. "Tied to what he carries and the magic it holds."

Gandalf nodded. "I hope you are wrong, Miss Granger, though I have learned not to doubt your intellect"

"Is he alright? Frodo?" She asked. "My magic may have protected me but what of him? From what I have read Hobbits are not a magically inclined folk."

"Indeed, they are not." The wizard agreed. "He is resting now. Elrond was able to heal him, as he has you. Though Frodo will carry his wound the rest of his life."

Hermione closed her eyes at the statement. To feel that pain for the rest of his days was a fate she wouldn't wish on the lowest Slytherin. Thinking quickly she swung her legs over the bed, steadying herself before placing her feet gingerly to the floor.

"I have an idea, I need my wand."

"Wand? You are an Istari?" Aragorn asked, moving forward to help her to stand. "But you are so... young!"

Gandalf laughed heartily at his old friend's observation. "Do not be quick to dismiss, she will surprise you as she has all of us." He stood as well, fetching Hermione's wand from her belongings in the cupboard. Handing it to the witch he smiled at her content sigh of reunion.

Making their way into the corridor the trio ventured down to a larger room at the end of the wing. Aragorn let Hermione use his arm for balance, guiding her On their way. Crossing the archway they found the room's occupant sat on the bed: a small form, the size of a child.

"Frodo, there is someone I would like you to meet." Gandalf made their presence known, the Hobbit turning at the familiar voice.

"This is Lady Hermione. She is a friend." The witch smiled kindly at the small man. "She wished to see you, and offer her assistance with your healing."

The Hobbit smiled back. "It is nice to meet you my lady. I am Frodo Baggins of the Shire." His brow furrowed. "Lord Elrond said he has done all he can to aid my mending. I did not think more could be done."

"I'd simply like to try." Hermione offered. "I would like to help you with my magic, if I can."

He looked shocked for a moment. "Magic? Like Gandalf?"

The old wizard chuckled heartily. "In a way, Frodo. In a way."

Aragorn guided Hermione over to the bed. She sat gently, her muscles still aching from the days in bed.

"I can not promise you this will work, Frodo. I also know you have no reason to trust me other than Gandalf's word. But I'd like to help, if I can."

The Hobbit eyed her carefully, his blue eyes searching hers. He nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.

Taking a steadying breath Hermione pointed her wand at the wound on his shoulder. "Vulnera Sanentur." She whispered, a faint glow encompassing the pair.

Gandalf's jaw dropped at the spell. Of course. A counter curse, not a healing spell.

The moment her magic met the wound both her and the Hobbit began to shake; the suspicion of their wounds being linked confirmed. Before their very eyes the black tendrils began to retreat towards the wound, the dressings becoming thick and heavy with a black mucilage.

Thinking quickly Gandalf carefully removed the dressing from Hermione's shoulder, Aragorn doing the same for the Hobbit. The poison was rapidly leaving their wounds, running down their skin. Throwing the gauze to the floor Gandalf muttered something and their burst into flames, emitting a rancid smoke.

Soon the glow from Hermione's wand faded as their wounds became no more than faded scars. Gandalf wiped the remaining ooze from her skin, now free of the ailment.

"Full of wonder, you are my dear. In all my years I would have not come to the conclusion of a counter curse."

"Harry told me of it. A powerful counter curse to a shockingly dark spell." She whispered sadly, rubbing at her shoulder. "Frodo, are you alright?"

The Hobbit was staring at her in awe. "The pain! It's gone." Without thinking he threw his arms around her neck. "Thank you!" He smiled.

Recovering from the unexpected embrace the Witch smiled broadly. "You are welcome. You must let me know immediately if it begins to hurt you again."

The little man nodded into her shoulder.

Smiling at the two Gandalf sensed they had been joined. Turning he saw Lord Elrond standing in the doorway looking relieved.

"It seems my wards have healed themselves." He smiled.

Frodo and Hermione turned to the elf. "I thought it would be worth a try. Most counter curses have no I'll effect on their targets if it can't counter the magic." She explained.

"Your knowledge is well beyond your years, indeed. I'm grateful for the assumption." The Elven Lord nodded before turning to the wizard. "They are arriving."

"The council?" Hermione asked excitedly, standing from the bed. Aragorn was at her side instantly, lending an arm. "I'd like to go to my room and get ready, if you all will excuse me."

"I'll find you in the courtyard?" The Ranger asked Gandalf as the passed, the wizard nodding his affirmation. The pair departed leaving the Hobbit with the two elders.

"What council?" Frodo asked.

Gandalf and Elrond decended the stairs into the courtyard that now held bannermen and dignitaries from all the kingdoms and realms of Middle Earth. Dwarves from the halls of Erebor stood furthest from the other groups, especially those of the Mirkwood Elves. There were two distinct banners which were held by the kingdom's of Men. The White Tree of Gondor and the Stallions of Edoras.

The wizard was surprised not to see the Eldest son of Gondor's Steward. Boromir, son of Denethor stood before a small party of Citadel Guard. The warrior stood confidently, assessing the others gathered with him in silence.

The Edoras company, however, did cause him concern. He had expected Theoden, King of Rohan, or perhaps his heir, Theodred. Instead he was greeted by the sight of Eomer, the Third Marshall of the Riddermark. When the horse-lord felt the gaze of the Wizard he turned, a solemn look etched in his dark hazel eyes. He sidestepped his companions carefully, joining the Istari at the bottom of the steps.

"My lord, Eomer, I must say I am surprised to see you and not one of your kinsman." The wizard shook his hand in greeting.

"Gandalf, I have an urgent matter to discuss..." His sentence stopped as his gaze was drawn upwards to the top of the staircase. Gandalf followed his gaze, as all the dignitaries had turned to see as well.

Hermione stood at the top, joined by Arwen and Aragorn. The Ranger helped her descend the steps, the she-elf moving to join her father. The witch had chosen a pale blue gown that reminded Gandalf of the dress robes she had worn to the Yule Ball in her youth which drew similar attention to the young woman. The pair joined the wizard, the stares of the others gathered with him ignored, for now. Hermione had noted the stare of Gandalf's handsome companion.

"My lady, it is good to see you are feeling better." Gandalf smiled, patting her arm gently. "Thank you, my friend." He nodded at Aragorn who bowed his head slightly before going to greet the Mirkwood Elves. The wizard noted the gaze between the two.

"Lord Eomer, may I introduce you to Lady Hermione. She is an old friend and currently Lord Elrond's guest." He turned to the young woman. "He is a Marshall of the Riddermark, the Calvary of Rohan."

The horse-lord still stared openly at her for a moment before composing himself.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hermione." He held out his hand which she accepted. He brought the back of her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Hermione's cheeks flared with a schoolgirl's blush which was not unnoticed by the wizard. "I did not realize Gandalf had such lovely friends. I assumed they were all as surly as he is."

She smiled at the sentiment. "You are too kind, my Lord." She dropped her hand politely to her side, Eomer smiling at her.

"Friends, I do believe we should make our way to the meeting chamber." Lord Elrond's voice carried across the courtyard. Hermione excused herself from the pair, joining the others as they ascended the stairs, turning once to look back at the two men.

Gandalf moved to follow but Eomer stopped him. "I will be brief, but this is urgent and must be said before this meeting." Hermione saw this and ducked behind a pillar at the top of the staircase. The horse-lord intrigued her and she wasn't sure why.

The wizard arched his brow. "Oh?"

"Saruman has infiltrated the Golden Hall. He has sent his serf, Wormtongue to act as council to my Uncle. He has poisoned his mind, Gandalf. My Uncle... I believe he is cursed." Eomer looked pained as he admitted to Gandalf, "I am unsure of what to do."

Closing his eyes at the news Gandalf sighed. "You are right this is urgent... if what you say is true and Theoden is, in fact, cursed then it confirms Saruman's treachery. Perhaps you should not attend this council."

Eomer looked offended at first before the wizard shook his head, stopping any rebuttal. Hermione eyed the two curiously.

"The less you know of the meeting, the less chance for you to become a target of Saruman." Gandalf leaned closer to whisper to the horse-lord. "I will explain more after the council. I need you to trust me, Eomer."

He stared carefully at the wizard, knowing Gandalf would not suggest his absence from something so important if it wasn't something he saw necessary. "Alright, Gandalf. I will trust you on this. But I need to know if you feel there is any hope to save my uncle."

"There is." Hermione made her presence known. "Gandalf is right, from what you've said it is best for us to protect you from Saruman's reach as much as we can."

"We?" Eomer chuckled. "Forgive me, my lady, but what do you know of fighting dark wizards?"

Gandalf closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose at the remark. Smiling stiffly Hermione looked down at the riders boots and whispered. "Tarantallegra."

Eomer let out a rather high pitched yell as his feet began dancing on their own accord beneath him. He looked between the two in shock. "You're a..." He gasped. "A..."

"Witch." She supplied for him as he was clearly having trouble speaking while exerting himself so much, albeit unwillingly.

"My dear, please. Before he hurts himself." Gandalf whispered. "Or someone else sees."

Nodding her understanding Hermione mumbled the counter charm and Eomer fell to his knees. "I may be a woman, my Lord, but do not mistake me for being just a woman of the court." She held her hand out and helped him back to his feet.

"Never again, my Lady." He grinned at her, awe in his eyes.

"We must join the others, Hermione." Gandalf turned back to Eomer. "Meet us afterwards, the gardens." He held his arm for Hermione and the two ascended the stairs.

"My lady?" She turned back to the horseman. "The others may make the same assumption of you that I did."

"I'll prove them wrong, my Lord. It worked with you, did it not?" She winked at him before continuing on with Gandalf to the waiting council. Hermione sensed her companions gaze as they walked down a corridor. "Not a word." She smiled as they approached their destination.

"I have no idea to what you are referring. Though I do believe Ginny would have been impressed."

She felt confident as the wizard escorted her into the room. She could do this.

Eomer had been right, however. The moment she stepped through the archway the room erupted in objections and demands as to why a woman was in their presence.

She closed her eyes and sighed. This was going to be a long day.


	6. Chapter 5: Ten Companions

_*I don't own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, I promise. Now I will be using many lines from the movie directly for dialogue of the meeting so that being said I also done own any trademarked material of New Line Cinema. I felt this would work best for how Hermione was to interact with the others.*_ _*I also would like to reiterate that as this is fan fiction, au and a crossover timelines will vary slightly.*_ _*I also can't thank all of my beautiful readers enough for the comments, favorites and follows. This is why I love writing Fan Fiction. To share my creativity with all of you is an indescribable feeling.*_

The sun was at it's peak in the sky, light radiating into the courtyard of Rivendell's meeting yard. The colorful early autumn leaves rustled in the breeze, birds chirping their songs as chaos had erupted amongst the delegates of Middle Earth.

"What is the meaning of this, Lord Elrond?!" One man demanded, wearing the garb of Gondor.

"She has no right to be here! She bears no banner!" Another, a dwarf, shouted over his taller emissaries.

Hermione stood calmly beside Gandalf, a smile firmly plastered on her face being the only barrier to her boiling patience. These men were facing the darkest magic in an eon yet were fussing over a skirt. Lord Elrond stood uncomfortably at the head of the circle, attempting to calm his guests.

"You know nothing of the Lady before you!" Gandalf's voice boomed over the others. "She has seen more battles than half of your finest warriors. She has faced magic darker than any in this world have ever seen."

"How?" Boromir of Gondor scoffed, turning towards the wizard. "What kind of warrior could she possibly be?"

"You could ask 'her' yourself, you know." Hermione mumbled under her breath.

"I beg your pardon?" He sneered in her direction. "Why don't you leave the matters at hand to the men and find something more suiting to occupy your time? Perhaps you can find a pillow that needs some stitching."

His comment may have brought a few chuckles and snorts from his male companions but his mistake had been made.

Before Gandalf could stop her the young witch had already reeled back and landed her fist square in the center of the Gondorian knight's throat, effectively knocking him to his knees. Gasping for air he looked up to see a seething woman before him, anger flashing in her honey eyes.

"We are wasting time! _Y_ _ou_ are wasting time." She shouted at the prone man before her. "While you bicker and argue you show Lord Elrond tremendous disrespect in his own house! He has called you here, not to threaten your manhood with the presence of a woman, but to show you the true danger we all face. Now if you'll kindly find your seat we can continue with what we have all gathered here to do."

Before anyone could utter another word she turned swiftly and sat beside Frodo who had remained still and silent in his seat. He looked over at the witch and offered a small smile. Whilst the witch had proven herself to him he knew others would not be convinced as easily. One by one the members of the council found their seats. Another man bearing the White Tree helped Boromir to his chair, the man still red faced and wheezing. Many cast a wary eye towards the young woman in their company but remained silent as Lord Elrond stood before his seat.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom" He looked over to Frodo who sat paralyzed beside Gandalf. "Bring forth the ring, Frodo."

Hermione reached over and gently squeezed the Hobbit's arm in encouragement before he stood, slowly approaching a pedestal at the center of the seats. He gently placed what the young witch could only call a simple gold band on the stone surface before returning quickly to his seat.

The magic radiating from the trinket hit Hermione like a storm, an angry darkness challenging her own light.

Whispers echoed in the chamber as the delegates realized what had been placed before them.

"So it is true." Boromir gasped, still rubbing his throat.

A redheaded dwarf stared openly at the ring, his mouth agape. The Prince of Mirkwood looked upon the stone plinth with disdain and fear. Hermione found herself focusing more on the reactions of the others than the pull of darkness emitting from the Ring. Aragorn's eyes seemed to follow hers around the circle, evaluating.

"In a dream I saw the Eastern sky grow dark." Boromir stood from his seat, staring down at the band as he approached it's place on the column. "In the West a pale light lingered A voice was crying, your doom is near at hand: Isildur's bane is found." As the Gondorian Knight stared st the Ring Elrond glanced over at Gandalf, his eyes swimming in worry.

"Isildur's Bane..." He stretched his hand forth towards the pillar but Hermione was a step ahead.

Feigning surprise she covered her mouth with her hand. "Confundo." She whispered just as Lord Elrond shot up from his seat. The knight seemed to stumble slightly away from the pedestal.

"Boromir!" He shouted alarmingly, believing he had been the one to startle the knight.

Gandalf stood, staring in vehement anger at Boromir. " ** _Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul_**. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and, in the darkness, bind them."

The others seemed to flinch at the wizard's words. The sky became dark, churning with magic and leaves fluttered with an unseen breeze. Elrond covered his face with one hand, reaching towards his seat with the other, as though pained. Boromir gaped at Gandalf, as though a boy scolded by a parent, before finding his seat as well.

"Gandalf." Hermione whispered, worried for her friend as the clouds began to clear.

"Never before has anyone uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris." Elrond seethed, almost looking betrayed by one of his oldest friends.

Gandalf shook his head, staring at those gathered before him. "I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West." His gaze turned to those carrying the Banner of the White Tree, boring into the arrogant knight leading them.The wizard could tell by the faces of his fellow delegates that they were as unsure of how the fates of their people could be tied to such a small trinket. "The Ring is altogether evil!" He waited for his words to ring off the pillars before sitting down beside Frodo.

Hermione, constantly vigilant, also watched the faces of those around her. The Elves seemed to look to Elrond, waiting for his reactions before offering their own, less they risk disrespect. The dwarves murmured low amongst themselves, knuckles white on their weapons.

It was Boromir who truly worried her, she could all but see his pride and ego boiling to the surface.

"Aye it is a gift!" Boromir stood and Hermione could feel her own impatience beginning to rise. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By thebloodof our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy, let us use it against him!"

Hermione was about to stand and hit the man again when she heard a low voice speaking calmly across the circle.

"You cannot wield it. None of us can." Aragorn looked at the other man, exasperated. "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master!" His explanation only fueled a rude rebuke from the Gondorian.

The man scoffed and Hermione had to hold herself back. "And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

The Prince of Mirkwood stood abruptly, moving to stand before the Knight, eye to eye. "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, you owe him your allegiance."

The witch looked to the ranger and felt her heart nearly break at the look of shame that crossed his face. The Hobbit beside her gasped, the idea of being in the presence of real royalty seemed to shade the contempt between the two men, in his naive eyes.

"Aragorn! This.. is Isildur's heir?" Boromir looked as though he may have to eat his own door, but quickly covered his surprise with an arrogant smirk.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." Legolas continued in the defense of his friend.

Aragorn, who could take no further attention, held his hand up in a plea to the elf. "Havo dad, Legolas."

The elf looked over, only standing down upon seeing the pleading look on the ranger's face. Boromir, in all his arrogance, took this as a victory.

"Gondor has no King." He turned, nearly struttinf to his seat. His eyes found Aragorn's and his voice practically dripped in disdain. "Gondor needs no King."

Hermione didn't need to be a mind reader to know that Boromir's attitude was nothing but a facade, Aragorn was a threat to his family's reign. This man was certainly not gaining any favor in the witch's eye.

Gandalf sighed, the pompousness of youth seeming to drown the air. "Aragorn is right.We cannot use it."

Before Boromir could open his mouth Hermione chimed in. "This is not a matter of using it for good. This ring is evil, pure darkness. Embued with the ever churning malevolence that Sauron could muster. Not one person here would be it's match."

The men looked to her in silence. They could not argue her wisdom, as much as they may not like the counsel of a woman.

"You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed." Elrond stood from his seat, looking around for their replies.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Before anyone had a chance to react Gimli, one of the Dwarves, stood with his battleaxe poised over his shoulder.

"No!" Hermione shouted, but his axe had already been swung.

The resounding wave of energy burst forth from the Ring, knocking all those standing back to their seats. The witch scrambled over to the dwarf who had been knocked back by the force, his axe crumbled on the ground before him. Frodo gasped in pain, looking away from the pedestal, his eyes wide in fear. Gandalf looked over at the Hobbit with concern, remaining in his seat beside him.

"Are you alright, Master Dwarf?" She asked, lending a hand for him to sit up.

"Aye, lass." He gasped.

As she stood a cold whisper began to resonate in her ears. Turning to the Ring she noticed Elrond's eye also resting on the trinket. The ring was calling... something. His gaze met hers and he nodded, he could hear it as well.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade." The rings whispers grew louder, drawing the attention of the other delegates. "It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the firey chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this." The ring stopped. It knew. These mortals were planning it's destruction.

The silence was deafening. The groups all looked to each other, waiting for the first move.

Of course it would come from the Gondor delegation.

"One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the great eye is ever watchful. Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this." Boromir looked to Hermione, in particular, his meaning clear. If ten thousand men could not best the armies of Mordor, no woman has a place amongst their plan to take this ring to the Eastern Shadowlands. "It is folly."

"Is it folly to attempt the unattempted?" Hermione asked. "You cannot be a Victor if you are too afraid to step outside your door."

"You know nothing!" He spat back, not able to continue for Legolas also countered his remark.

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" He asked the Knight before looking at the companions. "The ring must be destroyed!"

Gimli stood sharply and Hermione could tell heated racial tensions were rising to the surface. "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?!" He demanded.

Boromir stood now, his face red with embarrassment, guised as anger. "And if we fail what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"Why offer excuses when we could be offering plans, strategies?" Hermione scolded, crossing her arms. "What if's will do nothing for us but waste whatever time we may have to fight Sauron!"

Gimli, not to be outdone in a shouting match and still angry at Legolas' remarks. "I'll die before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf! Never trust an elf!" The witch rolled her eyes.

All the members of the meeting were on their feet, shouting at one another. Hermione, as embarrassed as she would be to admit it, was letting her anger get the better of her, and she shouted rebuttals right back. Gandalf had even joined the fray, scolding Boromir for his arrogance.

No one noticed the Hobbit, still in his seat, eyes fixed on the gold band. The faces of the delegates reflected in the polished surface before being engulfed in an unseen flame. A voice pounded against his mind, whispering the same words Gandalf had spoken to the council. The voice of Sauron.

Frodo knew he had to do something. Anything. The only thing he could do.

"I will take it!" He shouted, his voice small and uncarrying over the shouting voices. Taking a deep breath he said the words again, believing them himself. "I will take it!"

Hermione felt her heart break as she heard the small voice breakthrough the crowd. The finger that had been poised in front of Boromir's face dropped limply to her side as she turned to face the Hobbit, seeing Gandalf look over at Frodo, too. The other delegates realized that in their bickering and fighting had failed to do what this halfling had: He answered the call. The call of the council they had been called to convene.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though... I do not know the way."

Hermione sobbed as she rushed over to the Hobbit, throwing her arms around his shoulders. "I am with you, Frodo." She whispered.

"We will help you bear this burden Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear." Gandalf smiled at the nephew of his old friend. Another adventure had begun.

"We?" Boromir gasped. "Surely you jest that lady Granger will accompany you to Mount Doom?" He laughed, though no one laughed with him as Hermione stood from her embrace, turning to the Knight.

"I am no mere Lady, sir. I am Hermione Granger and I am the apprentice of Gandalf the Grey, Istari of Middle Earth!" And with those words Hermione had been exposed by her own hand. There would be no turning back now. "I will protect Frodo and Gandalf and anyone else who dares this journey with us until my dying breath. I am willing to do what needs to be done, my Lord."

She pulled her wand from the hidden bracer in her right sleeve, pointing it Boromir's sweating brow before swinging suddenly to Frodo. "Protego!" The Hobbit was engulfed, as was Gandalf, in a pale blue light. Hermione then dropped the item from her other bracer and threw an Elven dagger at the pair.

Boromir moved to seize the witch upon sight of the blade, stopping short when the dagger simply bounced off the light and clattered to the ground. She turned sharply to the group. "No weapon can pierce my shield. Would anyone care to try, my Lords?"

The reactions were a mix of shock, awe and fear but not one man raised their weapons. "My dear, I do think they believe you, now." Gandalf smiled softy. "You can drop the ward."

The witch did as she was told, dispelling the charm and moving to stand beside her new companions.

"I would recommend you not doubt her, my Lord." Aragorn stood, staring at Boromir with a gaze that spoke the years of wisdom the Dunedain had over the knight.

"If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword." The Ranger approached the Hobbit, kneeling before him. He stood, moving to Hermione's side. "I will aide you in all of my abilities in the protection of our Ring-Bearer."

She beamed as he reached forth and she grasped his forearm, sealing their camaraderie.

"And you have my bow." They looked to see Legolas stepping forward, bowing his head in respect to Frodo.

"And my axe!" Gimli raised what was left of his stone axe. Hermione made the mental note to repair the blade before their departure.

"You carry the fate of us all little one." Boromir spoke up, stepping towards the group."If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

Lord Elrond nodded proudly, opening his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another small voice behind the circle.

"Oy!" Another Hobbit, round faced and with bright red hair burst forth from the bushes. "Mr Frodo's not going anywhere without me!"

The elf-lord chuckled lightly. "No indeed it is hardly possible to seperate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not!" He wouldn't say it before the delegates but the Hobbit's loyalty to his friend had impressed him.

"Wait! we're coming too!" Everyone turned to see two more Hobbits rushing to stand beside Frodo. Lord Elrond was astounded that not one, but three Hobbits had managed to make their presence unknown throughout the entire council.

"You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!" One of them beamed proudly, very pleased with himself.

"Anyway you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission ... quest ... thing." The other chirped up.

The first rolled his eyes, looking over at his partner in crime. "Well that rules you out, Pip."

Hermione couldn't help the giggle that escaped her. These two brought forth happy memories of two certain brothers, their antics a match for any Weasley.

Lord Elrond looked upon the group with pride. "Ten companions... So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"

"Great!" Pippin beamed. "Where are we going?"

Hermione had found that packing for this journey had been quite simple once she'd been able to charm a bag similar to the one she had had back home. The memories of England had grown less sorrowful in the recent weeks, becoming more of a reminder of what she was fighting to return to. She had thought fondly of her friends' weddings she had missed, how many children being born she may never meet but knew would be unconditionally loved be her from afar.

Shaking her head she laid her bag on the table in her room, ready for when Gandalf gave the word for them to depart. Most of the council delegates had already begun making their journeys home, under the instruction of Lord Elrond that nothing was to be discussed outside of Rivendell.

Hermione had learned as much as she could about Middle Earth during her time in Imladris. She was anxious to see the rest of this world she'd only read of. Legolas and Gimli both told her of their homelands. The dwarf had boasted that once she had received a taste of Dwarven Hospitality she may never want to leave the Mountain Halls.

Aragorn had become quite the tutor when it came to teaching her the Dunedain ways, especially those of stealth. To remain unseen on their quest is their only hope to evade Sauron. She had come to respect the Ranger, his guidance and counsel had proven invaluable to her, as had his character towards her. He had never shown fear or hesitancy towards her after she'd revealed her magic to the others. He'd seen hear heal Frodo's wound but that was nothing compared to her wards.

The Hobbits seemed to idolize her, Merry and Pippin often watching her training sessions in the courtyards. Their banter and jokes reminded her so much of Fred and George that she quickly found herself to be quite fond of the two halflings. Sam seemed cautious of her, at first, often only asking her questions about her magic. Why did she have a wand where Gandalf had his staff? Could her magic protect Bill, his pony? Had she ever turned anyone into anything unnatural?

Hermione did her best to comfort Samwise the Gardener. She told him her wand was the same as Gandalf's staff, just smaller. She could ward Bill by carving a rune into his leading harness. She also swore on Imladris itself that she would never turn him into anything unnatural, not even to save his life.

Frodo had spent many hours with his Uncle Bilbo in the days leading up to their departure. The witch had spoken only briefly with the Baggins elder, he'd shown her the book he was writing. She was impressed at his ability to recall a journey he'd taken almost half a century prior. He had wished her well on her adventure, thanking her for her willingness to aid his nephew.

The only member of their party to not extend such kindness was Boromir. He'd kept his distance from the witch, wary of what may come with not one, but two spellcasters in their band.

Hermione did not let his disdain for her distract from the oath she'd taken. She would prove to him her worth, though she knew she owed him naught. He was simply prideful and now felt challenged and she smiled at the thought of making him nervous.

She made her way to the courtyard, bow and quiver on her back. Practice and preparation could do no harm before their exodus took them across the expanse of Middle-Earth. She had begun to wear the tunics Arwen had made for her, as gowns would be a hindrance on this type of adventure. She was pleased at how freeing the new garb had been, how similar it was to her old clothing.

She was surprised to find Gandalf in her normal clearing, Eomer of Rohan beside him. The two seemed deep im conversation as she approached. The blonde man smiled brightly when she came to stand beside them.

"My lady." The horse-lord once again raised her hand to his lips in a cordial greeting. "Gandalf was telling me of the council meeting. You are very brave to have accepted this quest."

"Thank you, my Lord." She returned his smile. "I am sorry you were not amongst us."

He shook his head, looking between the two Istari. "I understand, completely. While I would have joined you with no hesitation Gandalf has explained to me his reasoning and I cannot argue with his wisdom."

She nodded. "From what I have learned of Saruman and his trickery I know that your aid to us is best served from Edoras. Do you leave today?" She had to admit to herself that she had hoped to speak to him more in regards to Rohan and it's people.

"I depart in the morning, at first light." He sighed heavily. "How am I to stand by and allow Saruman to believe his hold on my uncle is strong enough to turn Rohan to his path?"

Hermione smiled sadly at the rider. "You wouldn't be allowing him, per se, as you would be gathering witness against him. Every act you see him control, every edict or announcement from his serf shall be held against him. Let him bury himself beneath his own words and he will face his own judgment."

Gandalf smiled. "After all these years you are still full of astonishment, my dear. I'll take my leave, however, there a few more matters to discuss with Lord Elrond." He placed his hand on Eomer's shoulder. "Your uncle is a dear friend of mine and I promise you, he will not fall to the darkness."

Eomer nodded his acknowledgment, a small smile on his face. The wizard left the two standing in the clearing, his smile unseen by the pair as he departed. Hermione gestured for him to follow her, wanting to continue the conversation even if she was here to train.

"What will you do now, then?" Hermione asked the Third Marshall. "Upon your return to Edoras, I mean."

The man shrugged slightly, his stoic expression faltering for a moment. "I suppose the only thing I can do is continue to protect my people... and my sister."

"You have a sister? What is she like?" She could tell that Eomer was struggling with his new task, as it were. This man before her was, above all else, a protector. Now he was being asked to observe an evil threat against his own family, and do nothing. Any slight escape she could offer would probably be welcomed.

"My sister... heh..." He chuckled before looking at the witch beside him. "I'd have to say you would enjoy her company, very much, my lady."

"Please, it's Hermione. You don't need to use any proper terms with me. I hold no court title here, though many use it." She stopped when they reached her targets, but her eyes strayed to the small table and chairs beneath a tree opposite her archery marks. "Would you mind staying? I only mean that I'm enjoying our conversation and, to be honest, my archery was merely to pass the time."

Eomer smiled, nodding as he reached to pull a chair out for her. "I would enjoy that, Hermione."

Removing the quiver and bow from her back she took the seat with a smile. He sat opposite from her, the helm beneath his arm resting now beside her items on the vacant third chair. "Tell me more about your sister." Hermione offered the conversation starter and soon the two talked until the light no longer breached the top of the canyon wall. Their topics ranged from the Calvary aptitude of Rohan to the customs and songs of the Golden Hall of Edoras. The witch kept her own histories more vague, but found herself opening up to the man before her.

"I must say, even admittedly as not the most well-read Marshall of the Riddermark, I haven't heard of a woman amongst the Istari ranks before." He grinned before adding. "Though, if there are other women wizards like yourself, then they would be a force to behold."

Hermione blushed at the comment, thankful for the fading light. "From what I know there aren't many of us. Though the correct term is 'witch', it rolls off the tongue better than 'woman wizard', wouldn't you agree?"

"I would." He looked around them, noting the darkness rapidly approaching. "I hope I am not being so bold as to say I hope your travels will bring you to Edoras, Hermione. I've enjoyed your... company."

She nodded her agreement. "And I, yours." She sighed, resting her hands atop the table. "To be honest, I do not know where this journey will take us. I would not say you are being bold in continuing to want for each other's company, for I hope we do see each other again. Very few here have reacted to my magic with such... indifference."

"Indifference? Forgive me, Hermione I meant no insult." He sat straighter in his chair, his blonde hair shining in the pale lantern light.

"You misunderstand, Eomer." Hesitantly she reached for his hand, his rough skin contrasting hers and making her smile. "Your indifference was welcomed! I was terrified... that by revealing my magic I would prove myself less an ally and more a target, I just ... reacted."

She moved to quickly pull her hand back but he held her firm. Her honey eyes met his deep sepia gaze and her breath caught in her throat.

"Bold of me to say, or not... Anyone who makes you their target has made an enemy of me." He stood, still holding her hand. "The hour is late, it seems the day couldn't keep up with our company. Please, allow me to escort you back."

Hermione nodded, taking his offer. She was nervous on the walk back to her chambers. Their conversation had turned to small talk, the artwork in the corridors, the craftsmanship of the elves. The witch would be lying if she said she didn't feel the same twitterpation that plagued many of her classmates growing up. Eomer was handsome, charming and kind to her. She was no longer the naive girl she'd been with buck teeth and armfuls of books, but she could sense a bond forming between herself and the Rider, much to her surprise. It had been years since she'd imagined anything that could be construed as romantic, yet here was this dashing warrior before her. One not afraid of her power, but in respect of it. Many men, wizard or muggle, often felt intimidated by her so she gave up the notion of looking for romance. It seemed, though, that Imladris had brought ... something to her.

Or someone.

Hermione tossed and turned all night. After Eomer had returned her to her room, after one final kiss to her knuckles, Aragorn arrived to inform her they'd be leaving the following afternoon. She was glad she had already packed, it would allow her a full night's sleep before they left. Yet the dreamscape eluded her. She though of plains and horses. Galadriel's words whispered through the night. _Send your finest to the Middle Earth Plains_. Perhaps she was meant to meet Eomer again. To see the Golden Hall. Before she knew it her room was bathed in the pale glow of twilight. Dawn. He was leaving soon. Grabbing her bag and dressing quickly she slipped from her room as silently as she could. She made her way to the stable courtyard, hoping Eomer had not yet departed.

Descending the stairway she noticed no sentries at the gate, nor their horses in their pens. They must have already departed. She went to the gate, staring down the path hoping to see a dust trail indicating they'd just left but was met with still earth.

"Hermione?" She jumped, turning swiftly with her wand dropped from it's holster to her palm.

"Eomer!" She gasped. "I thought you had already..."

His smile was beaming when he realized she was there to see him off. "Not yet, I wanted to feed Firefoot before we departed."

She nodded. "Of course! He'd need to have a full breakfast for such an early start... and all." She smiled timidly as she put her wand back in it's place. "I wanted to say... I just... I _do_ hope my travels will lead my path to Edoras. And I have something for you."

Reaching into her bag, inwardly laughing as his eyes doubled when her arm disappeared into it, she pulled out a small gold and red ribbon. He eyed the fabric curiously as she held it in her hand.

"It's nothing extravagant, but these simple colors represent what I am... _who_ I am. These are my house colors where I am from, where I have already proven myself. You've reminded me I have nothing to prove, to anyone, and I can't thank you enough for that." Hermione held out her empty hand and he reached for it. She smiled as she wrapped the strip around his wrist. "I hope our paths cross again, Eomer. But until then... know that I am honored to have met you."

He could tell that she struggled with this, a vulnerable moment. Eomer gently covered her hand with his as she fastened the ribbon. "The honor is mine. I know our paths will cross again, you are a rarity not to be avoided." He leaned forward and placed a gentle, chaste kiss upon her cheek. "Thank you, I will wear your banner with pride. Though, I do have something for you. I was going to leave it with Gandalf." He rummaged through a saddle bag, thankful he was turned away from the blush radiating across her cheeks.

He turned back to her, a small pouch in his hand, holding it out for her to take. She pulled the string open and turned it's contents into her palm. A simple braided leather bracelet with a small wooden horse looked up at her. "Eomer, I... thank you, this is beautiful!" She couldn't help the blush this time as she smiled up at the man before reaching over to stroke the mane of the steed beside them. "We um... shouldn't keep Firefoot waiting. You've a long ride ahead."

He nodded, reaching forward and squeezing her hand one last time before letting go, both of them with internal protest. He finished tightening the straps of the saddle, turning to her once more. "Until next time, Hermione. I look forward to the day."

"So do I, Eomer." She smiled sadly as he pulled himself up into the saddle. "Please stay safe."

He laughed. "I should be requesting you stay safe, Hermione, although... I don't doubt you can look after yourself better than your companions."

She nodded. "That's probably true."

"Goodbye, My Lady." He donned his helmet and spurred the horse through the gate, leaving Hermjone standing in the courtyard. She stared down at the bracelet before securing around her right wrist, her wand hand. The leather was soft against her skin and she noticed the carving of the horse had the same markings as Firefoot.

She watched the canyon wall, occasionally seeing the glimmer of armor against the stone as the horse-lord ascended from the city of the Elves. It wasn't until she could no longer spy his form that she turned and ascended the steps. Her companions would be gathering here soon, for their own departure.

Playing with the worn leather Hermione smiled, she was ready.


	7. Chapter 6: To the Misty Mountains

**~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~**

 **Hello everyone! Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favorites, I can't properly express what they all mean to me. To share my nerdery with all of you lovely people is truly an honor.**

 **I still don't own any content or monetary rights to the Harry Potter universe, Lord of the Rings universe, or any property of New Line Cinema... I think that's all of em...Again, yes I'm again using lines of dialogue from the script, it tends to help me flow my chapters and time management. Still don't belong to me, just borrowing them.**

 **As I've said before I will be tweaking timelines slightly, only as to fit to this story. I mean it is an AU/Crossover, so some tweaks are to be expected. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~

 _It was raining in London, as it always was. The days were encompassed in a smothering mist that smelled of exhaust and garbage bins. Commuters and school children passed each other on the sidewalks, their attentions pulled elsewhere as they passed a small cafe window. A lone man sat at a small table inside. His stare pulled through the crowd, searching. Curly hair. Brown eyes._

 _Harry Potter spent most his days this way. Hermione Granger had been missing for 3 months, last seen by a Norwegian Squib deep in the mountains of the Northern Country. The Det Norske Magidepartementet had contacted Kingsley and the Aurors immediately, sending Filip with everything they had recorded in the cave. Ron openly wept as the video had played, Hermione's screams echoing in the Minister's office._

 _Harry had become withdrawn in the days following the news. He'd watched the video hundreds of times, each time breaking his heart to see his sister in so much pain. Why hadn't he sent an Auror with her? He should have insisted. He should've done it anyways, even if it had meant lying to her. The boy who lived felt like the brother who failed. The Norwegian Ministry had insisted that their Healers had combed the cave and found no indication that Hermione was killed in the flames. No remains had been found, magical or... human._

 _Ginny had been very supportive of her husband and her brother when the news broke, ensuring them both that everything that **could** *be done was being done. Mrs. Weasley had taken it upon herself to floo in everyday to check on her boys, cleaning up and cooking as she went along. Kingsley had traveled to Trondheim immediately, investigating for weeks with Maiken. When he returned it had been decided that Hermione Granger would be declared Missing._

 _As he had everyday since the Minister's return Harry spent his lunch at Hermione's favorite bistro. She had dragged Harry and Ron to the muggle spot nearly once a week, calling it their 'spot'. If she were to come back, maybe she would come here first. Somewhere familiar. That had been his logic, at first. Now it simply served as a place of quiet and disassociation, even if only for a moment._

 _"Hey, mate." He looked up from the window to see Ron and Luna Weasley approaching the table, their coats still damp from the rain. The couple had gotten married despite the absent Maid of Honor. Hermione's picture stood beside Luna through the ceremony and the bride shared her favorite memories of the witch in tribute. If anything the moment added a sense of normalcy, this new reality without Hermione._

 _The couple sat across from the raven haired man, both looking as forlorn as their friend. Not much joy was to be found in their lives. Yes, their friends were getting married, starting families; all things that were to be celebrated felt... empty. Someone important was absent and her friends were left feeling the vacancy._

 _"How are things at work, Harry?" Luna asked, her voice as dreamy as when they were children._

 _"About the same, really." He sighed, stirring his tea. "Not many Death Eaters left, mostly dealing with teens dabbling with magic they shouldn't these days."_

 _Ron snorted in reply, just as the server brought over two menus and water. He smiled sheepishly as the man raised an eyebrow at the noise. "Thanks, mate. I'll have a meat pie and chips. You ready, love?"_

 _"I'll have your daily soup, please." She smiled politely._

 _Harry's gaze wandered toward the window again, his friend's orders barely registering in his ears. This was his life now. Hermione and Ron had been there for him through everything and now they were unbalanced and incomplete. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a worn piece of parchment. The etching of the Cave Runes stared back at him, haunting him. The image was already stamped on his psyche, tormenting him daily, the picture wasn't needed as an aid anymore._

 _"You're gonna drive yourself mad, mate." Ron whispered, reaching over and grasping his shoulders. "I don't think those markings are gonna do anymore good now."_

 _Their main goal, at first was to try to translate the runes. Without Hermione, the world renowned Runeologist, the task proved pointless._

 _Harry knew he was right. He had spent hours looking at those markings, never seeing anything new with reexmination. He sighed, tossing the paper on the table. "I hate this not knowing, Ron. I've always known what I was going up against. Death Eaters, Vampires, sure. But how do you go up against Stone? I know two things about those carvings, only two! That, one, they are old, and two, they took Hermione." He laughed, a weak chuckle. "Hermione was kidnapped by bloody words."_

 _"I think I might know what that says." Luna whispered, staring at the upside down parchment with her big curious eyes. "May I see it? Unless I can't for Auror reasons?"_

 _The men gaped, slack jawed at the newlywed Weasley. This was, as far as Harry knew, the only time she had seen it. Since it had been part of the official investigation he hadn't even shown Ginny. He had learned to take Luna's knowedge of the fantastical at face value, nargles and all._

 _Ron turned the parchment over to his wife, watching her with a proud smile. "Really?! Give it a try, love." She carefully reached for the scrap, handling it gently._

 _"Take... no, Send. That word is send... your finest to the... center? No, that's not what that is... hmm." She followed the markings with her finger, silently mouthing the words as she pointed. "Middle-Earth, that's what that says. Send your finest to the Middle-Earth plains. I do know what this says!" She looked up at her husband, beaming. "I can read this!"_

 _"Luna, are you sure?" Harry asked, his eyes glistening with tears. "What language is this?"_

 _"I dont know what it's called but its how my Uncle Radagast writes all of his letters. I've only met him twice, and I always thought it was a secret language he and my father made, you know?" Luna smiled at her friend. "I can translate this' I have all of my father's letters at the loft."_

 _Harry and Ron didn't need to be told twice. The three left before their food arrived, leaving more than enough money on the table for their bill. Ducking quickly into a nearby alley Harry cast a notice-me-not charm on the three as they apparated back to Ron and Luna's flat._

 _When they arrived in the sitting room Luna quickly dashed into her study, returning with a large stack of letters bound by a thick leather strap. "He wrote us every summer holiday. He always wrote about the most mystical forests and creatures, I always thought they were stories."_

 _She unfastened the strap and began thumbing through the pages. "Where's the one with... Aha!" She held out for Ron to grasp. Once he had hold of the parchment he began laughing hysterically, showing it to Harry with shaking hands. Written out on the page was a simple hand drawn abc translation of the runes that had terrorized them for months._

 _He rushed forward and hugged Luna, spinning her around. "Luna you are amazing, bloody brilliant! You had the answer in that beautiful head of yours this whole time!" He grabbed a quill from the table, writing the letters to each line on his worn parchment, his answer before him in less than five minutes._

 _When his answer lay before him he had more questions than answers. "it says: 'Send your finest to the Middle-Earth Plains. Send your brightest to quell the shadow. Send with haste, send with flames. Send your bravest, send your hero'... Where is 'Middle-Earth'?"_

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~

The Fellowship turned South East of Rivendell, along the base of the Misty Mountains. Gandalf and Aragorn had decided the best route prior to leaving the city of the Elves, wanting to keep their travel path private. The less who knew where they might be at a given time, the better. The hills rolled beneath Hermione's feet as she walked alongside the Hobbits. Aragorn and Legolas had gone ahead slightly, scouting the path. Their goal was to make for the Gap of Rohan, even though it risked passing close to Isengard.

The Hobbits adjusted quickly to their new life on the road. Merry and Pippin occasionally would gripe about their growling stomachs or the heat, dramatically fanning themselves after walking anything more than an hour straight. Sam would constantly take account of inventory after any meal stops they made along the way, keeping a small written journal in his bag. Hermione made note of this, impressed by the Gardener's organization. The Ring-bearer was silent most of the journey, standing with one or the other Istari in their group. He kept his sights on the horizon, always watching the East.

Hermione was worried for Frodo, this kind of burden of dark magic is not unfamiliar to her. Thoughts of Slytherin's locket brought back memories of a gnawing internal shadow, eroding away the mental will in a battle for submission. He was brave, that was not to be argued. She had shared the concern with Gandalf, barely after breaching the canyon walls outside Imladris.

"Frodo comes from a stout line of Hobbits, Baggins' are hearty folk, Hermione. Bilbo carried the ring for over fifty years." Gandalf had said, looking ahead at the Hobbit walking alongside Sam and the pony, Bill.

"Hearty or not, Gandalf, this magic is beyond dark, it is pure evil. How long will this journey take, by your guess?" She asked.

"I wish that was an easy answer, my dear." The wizard sighed. "If all goes swimmingly and we are only met with allies, no foes in sight, we might reach the Black Gate in, oh... three or fourth month's time."

"Do you truly believe we can account for this quest to go 'swimmingly'?" She laughed slightly. "I missed your optimism, sometimes headmaster, but I can't say this is one of those times."

"Then, I suppose you have your answer: At least four more months. But I'd account for seeing many more moons than that on our road."

She knew he was right, there were going to be setbacks in their travels. It was inevitable on an endeavor of this design. The fate of this world was in the balance and there were always going to be those against them, fighting every step of the way. If she was accounting for an almost absolute worst case scenario this journey would probably take the better part of a year. Sheer distance played the biggest factor, along with the size of their band. That was a long time to be trapped with a force as powerful as the ring.

By the fifth day a good pace had been set, the group was nearing the Glanduin river where they would cross and continue South. Hermione had cast anti-blistering charms on everyone's boots the first night when she took watch with Aragorn. The ranger had watched her with a smile, it was a simple act of magic, one his feet were grateful for.

They decided to make camp for the night, if they'd kept their pace they would have reached the river by nightfall, a dangerous time to attempt a crossing. Legolas had found a small clearing near a grove of trees, most likely an old hunting party camp. Plenty of boulders offered shelter and concealment, while there were plenty of good watch positions around them. Sam quickly prepared a fire, unloading the pots and pans needed to prepare another delicious stew, no doubt. The witch enjoyed his cooking, which could rival that of the Weasley Matron. As the others made their bedrolls in the ring of trees Hermione unsaddled Bill, leading him over to a small creek for some fresh water.

The trickling stream sounded quite calming to her as she brushed the pony's back, clearing off the saddle dust. There was a slight breeze along the base of the Mountains, whistling lightly through the trees, the chill of the approaching dusk. Hermione wondered if Eomer had stopped here on his ride home to Rohan. Looking down at the small bracelet she smiled, hoping the Rider made it home safe.

Bill's ears perked up and she turned quickly, her wand drawn.

"Please, I did not mean to startle you!" Boromir stood before her, hands up slightly. He looked nervous, taking a long breath. "I only wanted to... I must apologize to you for my behavior in Rivendell, my lady. I treated you with disrespect and have a duty to make amends."

Hermione couldn't help her mouth opening in shock. "You want to apologize? To me?"

"Well, yes... of course." The knight raised a brow in confusion. "I cannot deny my actions were reprehensible and I am ashamed of it. If you hadn't been worthy you would not have been amongst us, I see that now."

She didn't know what to say. "I must say, Captain, I'm a little caught off-guard. This is unexpected, to say the least." Reaching over and tying off Bill's lead she sat across from the knight, indicating he do the same on a nearby log.

"As much as I might have... disagreed with your words at the Council, I do understand. It is a difference in culture, if you will." Hermione looked and the man before her, still seeing his shame etched in his face. "I accept your apology and ask only one thing in return: let my actions on this journey decide your opinion of me, not my magic."

"What do you mean, my lady?" He asked, surprised. "Your magic is quite powerful, I imagine your skill with it will only impress, as Gandalf does."

The witch shook her head. "I'm asking you to judge me on my character, Boromir. My morals, my choices, my temper; these are the things I want to define me."

"I understand, completely, my lady. I've often told my men before that their choice to not swing their blade is just as critical as when they do." Once again Hermione was surprised.

"I may have to admit that I, too, misjudged you." She chuckled. "Perhaps you aren't just a dull soldier. Also please no more of the 'my lady's. It's bad enough trying to get the halflings to stop. Call me Hermione, just my name will do fine."

The Captain of Gondor nodded, smiling at the witch. She quickly learned that he was a brilliant strategist, his battle plans having been the key to ascending the ranks of the Gondor army. His brother had joined the Rangers of Ithilien just before he departed for Rivendell. He sounded quite proud of his sibling as he described his love of learning, joking of him being the scholar of the family. She told him of her own brothers, Harry's penchant for disaster and Ron's appetite providing plenty of anecdotes to share. She told him many things, of being a child in the expansive castle halls to being on the run, hiding for her life from a madman. There were several times Boromir looked livid at the terrors she described, wondering how any man could allow children to suffer by his hand.

"I respect your candor, Hermione." He said, standing from the log. He went over and untied Bill, moving to take him back towards camp. "We should return, I believe I can smell the halfling's stew."

"I do believe you're right, Captain." Hermione stood, tucking her wand back up her sleeve, making her way back to the campsite with him.

The pair returned, leading Bill over to a makeshift stable that had been strung up at Sam's request. Boromir sat near the halflings, earning a wary gaze from Aragorn as the witch sat down beside him.

"Are you all right?" The Ranger asked, handing her a bowl of stew.

She nodded, taking a sip of the steaming broth. "Boromir actually apologized. Said he had to make amends for reprehensible behavior. I admitted I may have misjudged him as well and we agreed to let our actions determine our opinions of one another. I was shocked." Hermione took a spoonful of dinner into her mouth, smiling. "Oh my goodness, this is delicious!"

Aragorn looked surprised at her words. Not a week past you'd have thought she had wanted to maim the man she was describing. "I'd assumed him too arrogant to admit his shortcomings, but I suppose these are strange times."

She nodded. Strange times, indeed.

The following morning produced clear skies with abundant sunshine. Sam had woken before the others, preparing the pans for a simple sausage and vegetable breakfast. Hermione woke to the smell of searing meat and stretched, her items already packed into her small bag. She watched for a moment as the others had begun packing their belongings, rolling their items into the saddle packs. When everyone had added their items to the saddle Hermione pointed her wand and cast the feather-light charm at all the bags, as she had every morning. She had agreed, however, to not magic the food or cookware in anyway, at the behest of Sam. He worried it would harm the flavor.

As the fellowship sat around, either eating or packing, Merry and Pippin had convinced Boromir to spar with them. At the same time, of course.

"Fair is fair." Merry had stated.

Aragorn sat near them, shouting tidbits of advice to them from between draws on his long Greenleaf pipe. Hermione barely registered Gimli's voice as she dished herself a small breakfast.

"... I would say that we are taking the long way round!" He said through bites of sausage at Gandalf, as Hermione sat down beside him. "Gandalf, we could go through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balim would give us a royal welcome, I can promise you that!"

Hermione shivered at the statement, sensing something off about Gandalf's reaction. The wizard looked solemnly over at the dwarf, sighing. "No Gimli, I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."

As she continued eating she noticed a swift movement out of the corner of her eye. Legolas had rushed atop a rock at the edge of their camp, peering at a wispy shadow to the south of them. Setting down her plate she moved to join him, straining to see.

"What is it?" She asked. The elf shook his head in response, staring at the shape.

"Ahh!" Hermione jumped, turning sharply to see Boromir reaching down to say sorry to Pippin, having lightly struck him with the blunt edge of his blade. Sporting what could only be described as a pout, Pippin kicked the man, soon being joined by his cousin in the attack. Aragorn attempted to rescue the knight, only to be knocked down as well.

She turned back to Legolas, his gaze unmoved. Hermione frowned, something was wrong.

"What is that?" Sam had pointed to the same shape, having noticed the pair.

Gimli scoffed, taking another bite of meat. "Nothing, it's just a wisp of cloud!" He batted a hand at them, the worriers.

Boromir stood, helping Merry to his feet. "It's moving fast." He paused, turning to the Ranger. "Against the wind..."

Legolas put his hand on the witch's shoulder, nudging her back below the boulder. "Crebain from Dunland!" He shouted, jumping down as well.

They all hurried to hide any evidence of their camp. The fire was drenched, cloaks and bedrolls thrown into bushes or behind rocks as they all took cover where they could find it. Hermione ran to Bill, dragging the pony into the woods, casting a notice-me-not, focusing on encompassing her *and* the horse as hundred of crows suddenly swarmed overhead, circling the campsite. These were no wild birds. These were scouts, spies. The way they flew, with pattern and design, was no act of nature. Someone trained them.

Hermione could not see any of the others from her spot in the trees. The birds circled overhead several times before turning and flying south, from where they'd come just as quickly.

The companions all emerged from their hiding spots, looking to Gandalf and Legolas for answers.

"The passage South is being watched." The wizard gasped, leaning against his staff. Hermione's stomach dropped, they weren't expecting anyone to have an idea of their route. "We must take the Pass of Caradhras!" He pointed to the East, a snowy peak looming above them.

"Gandalf, that's a perilous task! We should continue South, staying beneath the tree cover." Aragorn countered.

"That trek would be difficult with the size of our party." Hermione admitted. Staring up at the peak she sighed. "But we may not have a choice."

Gimli snorted indignantly. "Of course, don't listen to the dwarf. I've only been suggesting Moria since we left the elves!"

"Moria would take days longer, Master Gimli." Gandalf stated sternly. "We will face the mountain." Hermione did not seem to accept the explanation but continued on.

By midday they had reached the snow line, the dirt paths giving way to sheet ice beneath the powder. The bite in the air was unforgiving, quickly producing flushed cheeks and ears. She charmed their hoods, at least providing some protection from the wind. The wizard led the group, Gimli and Legolas behind him, leading the Hobbits. Hermione and Boromir helped pull Bill up the pass, the stubborn pony trudging slowly through the snow.

Aragorn took up the rear, constantly looking back for fear of more crows. He knew they had to be spies of Saruman, only a spellcaster could command creatures that way. Every ounce of his intuition was telling him the Mountain would best them. A few men could make the trek, but their party neared a dozen. The snow drifted over the mountainside, exposing some rockface along their way.

"Ah!" His attention is pulled back to the group, seeing the rolling form of a halfling barreling toward him.

Steadying himself he braced for impact, grabbing Frodo before he could fall further down the peak. Brushing the hobbit off, he went to pull him along. He resisted, frantically pulling at his collar.

"It's gone! I've lost it!" Frodo yelled to the others who began scanning the ground for a glint of metal in the snow.

Hermione thought briefly about using *'Accio'* to summon the ring, but she was interrupted when Boromir pulled a sparkling silver chain from the path of the halfling's tumble. He held it up so he was staring at the gold band hanging from the necklace. He was fixated, staring at the trinket as he reached for it.

"Boromir!" Aragorn shouted, trying to pull his attention away.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing." He turned the ring over in his gloved hand. "Such a little thing."

Hermione reached over, placing her hand gently on his arm. "Give the ring back to Frodo." She whispered. "It is not your burden to bear, you know that."

He looked over at her, a sadness in his eyes. He knew the ring was tempting him and he knew he was failing in his resistance. She could see the battle within, the choice the ring placed before him. This was not the man who she had sat with by the creek. Boromir was being tricked before her very eyes and she wasn't sure how to stop it.

"Boromir!" This time the Ranger got his attention. "Give the ring to Frodo."

The Captain smiled weakly, looking back at Hermione once more. "Of course." He whispered.

He carefully made his way down to the halfling, careful not to fall himself. He held the necklace out for Frodo who snatched it from his grasp. "As you wish, I care not."

He reached down and ruffled the halfling's hair, attempting to chuckle the incident away. Aragorn waited until he had turned away to pull his hand away from the hilt of his sword.

Hermione saw this, staring at the Ranger. It was clear now, Boromir was becoming a liability. He seemed weak willed against the call of the Ring. He showed it at the Council, and once more here in the wilds. She hung back, waiting to walk with Frodo and Aragorn.

"This bodes ill, Hermione." The ranger whispered. "If the ring can compromise one of us, who is to say who we can trust?"

"Don't." She whispered sternly. "If we turn against each other now then we will certainly fail. We watch each other's backs, even if we have to watch out for ourselves."

He nodded, wanting to believe her. If Boromir stepped out of line again, however, he'd be forced to act. Hermione knew this, it didn't need to be said. This wasn't him, it was the ring. The further East they traveled the stronger it's magic would become. She wouldn't let it cloud the minds of her companions.

The further they climbed up the mountainside, the harder the snow fell. Gandalf soon attempted to clear a path with his staff, the snow quickly becoming hip deep on the men. All the halflings had to be carried, the Captain bundling Merry and Pippin beneath his cloak while Aragorn had Frodo and Sam with him. Hermione had Bill's leads, thankful her calculation of a horse size dose of calming draught had worked.

Legolas, with his Elven light feet, stayed atop the berms, looking ahead as the path turned to a narrow strip along a cliff face. The wind whipped around his face, frozen rain biting at his fair skin. The wind was low, droning on as it carried along the mountainside. A hum resonated against the stone, like a song. As he listened he began to make out faint words. A man, he could make out a man's voice being carried with the snow.

"There's a fell voice on the air!" He shouted back to Gandalf.

The wizard stopped, listening intently to the wind, straining to hear the voice. _"... nai yarvaxea rasselya!"*_

Then recognition hit him, just as a bolt of lightening struck a peak above their heads. "It's Saruman!" He yelled just as they all held themselves tight to the wall. The rocks came crashing down, missing them by mere inches.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn called out to the wizard. "Gandalf! We must turn back!"

"No!" Gandalf shouted, pulling myself up atop the snow with Legolas. He carefully trudged to the edge, holding his staff high. _"Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith!"_

 _"Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse; Nai yarvaxea rasselya; taltuva notto-carinnar!"_ Hermione, too, could hear the voice now. The words carried with them an unnatural chill, deeper than any winter storm could produce. A great streak of lightning cracked down from the sky, striking above their heads.

 _"Protego!"_ She screamed, pointing her wand up just in time to halt the avalanche that was about to cascade down upon them, creating an ice cavern around them. The wind howled and screeched around them, breaking away bits of the ice built up against the ward. She dropped the spell, pushing the snow over the ledge and into the crevass below them.

"We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!" Boromir struggled to keep the Hobbits wrapped beneath the cloaks, holding them close to him.

Shaking his head Aragorn disagreed. "The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard! We can't let the ring get that close to Saruman!"

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it!" Gimli was barely above the snow, only his shoulders and head above the powder. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria! It would be a great deal warmer down below, you can't deny that!"

Gandalf gave a noted pause, Hermione could practically see him weighing the choice before them. For a moment the only sound was the wind, blowing unforgivingly past them. "Let the Ringbearer decide."

"What?" She yelled. "Gandalf what are we doing?"

Frodo looked confused and turned to Sam, who is only barely able shrug a response. Aragorn looked to Gandalf, wondering why the Istari would not make this decision himself.

"We cannot stay here!" Boromir was now holding Merry and Pippin as close as he could, looking frozen and scared. "This will be the death of the hobbits! They won't last the night up here!"

"Gandalf, just make the-" Hermione was cut off by the wizard.

"Frodo?" He asked firmly. She was shocked. Why wouldn't he make the choice? Unless... He had already made his choice. If they were to go beneath the mountain it would not be his decision.

The hobbit looked unsure of himself as he answered. "We... we will go through the Mines." Anywhere sounded better than the top of this brutal mountain. He couldn't handle the snow anymore. How bad could a mine be if it meant shelter from the snow.

Gandalf's shoulders slumped. "So be it." Frodo looked down, feeling as though he had disappointed the wizard. Hermione was fuming. She was beyond angry. He was hiding something about the mines, something she could only assume dangerous. As he approached her, moving to turn their party around, she stopped him.

"What aren't you telling us?" She grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her, knowing the others could not hear her over the storm. Her cheeks were red with the chill and with her own anger. "What is down there?"

He shook his head. "If we are quiet and cautious, nothing." He replied.


	8. Chapter 7: Into the Mines

_Hello all of my lovely readers! * **waves like the nerd I am** *_ _The response I have gotten from all of you is phenomenal! I am so so so glad that you have all enjoyed what I have shared with you so far! I haven't decided yet if I will have this be 3 separate stories, following the LOTR trilogy or if I should just continue this as one story, thoughts? Let me know in your reviews, as my readers your input is extremely valuable to me. Now this chapter is a doozy, it's my longest yet, so I hope you enjoy._ _Sadly I still do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings or New Line Cinema, I am merely borrowing the characters and the amazing worlds these Authors and Producers have created._

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~

Night had settled over the mountains by the time the fellowship had reached the valley floor. At their current rate they would still reach the entrance to the mines well before dawn. The air turned damp, a low stagnant mist surrounding the base of the mountain. As they walked along the witch in their company had strayed to the back of their group, deep in thought. Hermione Granger liked to believe herself to be a relatively positive person since the War. She led a happy life, present circumstances aside, and tried to allow very little negativity onto herself. But if there was anything she absolutely hated; it was being lied to. Gandalf the Grey was keeping something from her, something about the mines.

Even as Dumbledore he had used this tactic, as her and Harry had found out seventh year. If things were not leaning his way it seemed he would simply step aside until the tides had turned back toward his own favor. She had attempted occulemency, hoping to catch him off guard as they carefully traversed off the mountain. She couldn't quite make sense of what she was reading from him before he had brutally forced her from his mind.

Hermione had stumbled slightly, only to be caught by Aragorn.

"Are you alright?" He'd asked her, noticing she had been noticeably agitated since the Pass.

"Do you... I'm getting the feeling that Gandalf is hiding something." She confided in the Ranger. "Why did he make Frodo make the decision about going through Moria? It doesn't make sense, Aragorn. He _would not_ make that decision himself, and I can't figure out why."

"You are not alone, I fear." He sighed, looking forward to barely make out the tall pointed shadow of the wizard ahead of them. "Gandalf is very wise, and I have come to trust him over many years of guidance and friendship. That said... I do believe there is cause of concern. Be on your guard, Hermione."

She hadn't let go of her wand after that. Soon the grassy terrain of the valley gave way to sharp shale rock and flowing shallow creeks. They were approaching the Glanduin, yet Moria was just north of the river. Hermione knew they had to be getting close.

They had been cautious once they reached the river's edge, keeping close to the shore. Aragorn knew there were goblins in these parts of the world, keeping to the damp refuge of the caves nearby. He kept his sights on the Hobbits, knowing they must be tiring after their descent from the mountain.

Their plan had been to rest once in the mines, Gimli promising them a warm welcome with food, fire and ale. Hermione admitted, even if only to herself, that hospitality of such a kind would be gladly accepted. Her legs ached, not that her gear had any weight to it, but it had been years since she'd trekked as many miles as she had in the past several days.

She heard an audible gasp and instinctively raised her wand.

"The Walls of Moria!" Gimli exclaimed, pointing ahead of them.

The witch had been so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed the looming cliff face before them. A lake lay before the walls, eerily still and reflecting the darkness of the night. The fog hung low to the waters surface and Hermione's skin tingled. They were definitely not alone but no creatures in sight.

They made their way to the walls, walking along a slippery path of moss covered stone. Their steps were careful, trying not to slip into the creek beside them. As they walked further the creek fed into a larger lake, it's surface unmoved.

At one point Gandalf began running his fingers along the wall, muttering to himself. He seemed to find something as he traced a tall arch with his fingers.

Hermione moved closer to the wizard, as had Frodo, studying his movements. She could make out a faint line in the stone, a thinly etched archway. The rest of their party had stopped, watching the Istari closely. Aragorn had pulled Sam aside, helping him unload the pony's packs and distribute the supplies, clearly meaning to send Bill on his way. They certainly couldn't take a horse deep into the mountain halls.

"Itidin..." Gandalf whispered, looking up at the night sky. "It mirrors only starlight and-"

"The moon!" Hermione smiled, following his gaze. The clouds began to part, bright beams of lunar light shining down through the cover. The etching in the stone began to glow, revealing a glittering doorway. She could make out the words as they appeared, not catching the wizard's smile as she read aloud.

"Door of Durin, Lord of Moria..." She paused, slightly surprised to see Elvish writings on a Dwarven doorway given the tensions between the two peoples. "Speak friend and enter..."

"Well what do you suppose that means?" Merry asked, coming to stand behind the witch. "How would it know we are friends or foe?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by Gandalf's confident reply.

"It's quite simple, Master Meriadoc, if you are a friend you need only speak the password and the doors will open for you!" He beamed, clearly proud of his answer.

The witch was irked, a surprising emotion. She was sure that the answer was to speak the word 'friend', yet Gandalf had seemed so sure. She shrugged it off as he began chanting at the doorway.

Frodo shivered beside her and she murmured a warming charm, gently touching his shoulder. He smiled gratefully up at her as she reached over and did the same to Merry.

"Thanks. That helps." He wrapped his cloak around himself, keeping the magical heat close.

She smiled at the Hobbit, she had become quite fond of the halflings, constantly making sure they were comfortable on this journey. Hermione had read enough of the shirefolk to know they were not an adventurous bunch, present company excluded.

"How long do you think we will be out here?" Merry asked, looking out over the eerie lake. "Aren't there trolls in these mountains?"

Hermione chuckled. "There are, but don't worry, you're safe with us."

He nodded, moving over to where Pippin was gnawing on some dried meat near the shoreline. She watched the others as Gandalf shouted various languages at the stone wall, after several attempts most of them had sat down for a long haul.

"Somethin' on your mind lass?" She turned to see Gimli, his axe rested against his shoulder. "Don't you worry now, once we are inside you're in for a real treat!"

"I'm sure, Master Gimli. You've had nothing but praise for the mines and I'm curious to see them for myself." Hermione smiled. "Do you know how to enter the mines? I'm worried Gandalf is having some... trouble deciphering that doorway."

"My forefathers always came from Erebor to the East, there lies a different door. Similar, yes, but it opened by the touch of one of the great Dwarf houses. The house of Durin welcomed all dwarves in Moria." He sighed, his beard giving away the smile Hermione couldn't see. "My cousin Balin ventured here long ago to restore Moria to the great hall it once was. I am happy to be able to see him again."

"How many dwarves live in the mines?" She asked. "Would they know if we were out here?" It had been nagging her since Gandalf didn't get the door open on his first try. Surely someone inside would know if their group was trying to get in.

"I'm not sure if Balin brought more longbeards with him." The dwarf answered, moving his axe from one shoulder to the other. "It has been many years since we heard from him. He must be busy with the mines."

Hermione didn't press him about his kin. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, something she did not want to share with Gimli. The path they'd traveled had not been walked in a very long time judging from the moss and mildew surrounding the door. If there were dwarves in those halls they hadn't left in a very long time. It wasn't realistic, in her eyes. They'd have to leave, if anything, for trading. She doubted the presence of gardens and livestock deep within the mountain.

"What of your home, lass?" The dwarf chuckled. "Don't tell me the wizard molded you from clay or some other magical nonsense."

She laughed softly, not wanting to disturb Gandalf. "No, nothing of the sort. I come from somewhere... very far and very different. Where I come from there are many wizards and witches. Definitely more than middle earth."

"Sounds too crowded for my liking." He grunted. "No offense, but dwarves are leary of magic-folk. Greymane being the exception. He's proven himself a great friend to all peoples of middle-earth."

Hermione knew that time must have worked differently here compared to home. Clearly Gandalf had been here much longer by Middle Earth than Dumbledore had been dead. His friendship with Elrond, alone, proved that. By her accounts he's been here for generations, if not longer. It had been almost ten years since that horrible night at Hogwarts, yet he'd clearly been here for more than sixty. Her mind drifted to what that meant for Harry and Ron. How long had she been gone? What if their children were walking the same halls they had, laughing on their way to class?

"Lass?" She was shaken from her thoughts.

"I'm sorry." She quickly recovered, wiping away any tears that hadn't yet fallen. "I must be tired."

"Aye, 'tis late. Don't you worry." He patted her arm. "I'm sure Gandalf will have us inside soon."

He walked away, going to stand with Boromir who had taken watch. Hermione turned back towards the door, watching as Gandalf continued his efforts to no avail.

A splash behind her caused her to jump, turning swiftly with her wand pointed towards the lake.

Aragorn had already reached the water, grabbing Pippin before he could mirror Merry and throw a stone in the lake. "Do not disturb the water." He whispered, looking back at Hermione when he let go of the Hobbit. Boromir saw the exchange and moved towards the witch and the ranger.

Walking over he sighed. "We can't be out here much longer."

Hermione nodded. "We've been out here too long, already." Aragorn put his hand on his sword, watching the water as the ripples spread.

They hadn't noticed Gandalf sit down until he let out a loud breath of defeat. "It's no use." He grumbled.

Frodo approached the door, reciting the words slowly. "It's a riddle! Speak 'friend' and enter..." He suddenly exclaimed, turning towards Gandalf. The witch smiled, proud of the halfling's conclusion. "What's the elvish word for friend?"

" _Mellon_." The doors cracked loudly at the wizard's words.

Hermione quickly ushered Merry, Pippin and Sam towards the door while Boromir and Aragorn kept their eyes on the lake until they were all inside.

Gimli's boasts echoed the entry hall, the quiet irking several party members. "...roaring fires! Malt beer! Red meat of the bone!" He beamed proudly as Legolas quickly lit a torch. "This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin!"

As he continued the light shone down on a macabre scene of fallen skeletons and weapons scattering the floor. The webs and dust indicated a battle decades ago, there would be no welcome for their fellowship.

"No..." Hermione whispered, covering her mouth for fear of disturbing the dead.

"This is no mine." She looked to Boromir as he surveyed the room before them. "This is a tomb!"

Gimli wailed, rushing forward towards one of his fallen kinsman. "Oh no... NO!" He shouted in horror.

Legolas yanked an arrow from one of the skeleton's armor, studying the head briefly before throwing it down in disgust. "Goblins." He spat, swiftly knocking one of his own arrows to his bow.

The sound of their swords unsheathing scraped against Hermione's ears, her wand drawn and pointed towards the cavern ahead as they backed towards the door.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan." Boromir spoke assertively, voicing the same opinion he had atop the mountain. "We should have never come here."

At his words Hermione turned to look at Frodo, almost to assure him that this was not his fault; he couldn't have known what they would find here. All she saw was him and Sam being pulled away, their feet swept from underneath them as tentacles had arisen from the lake.

"No!" She screamed, rushing forward.

"Strider!" Sam shouted, trying to strike the tentacle around his ankle. "Aragorn, help!"

Frodo screamed, attempting to use Stingto free himself, as well.

Aragorn, Boromir and Hermione rushed forward, the two men slashing their way through the tentacles. The witch tried to aim at the tentacles holding the Hobbits but the splashing water and curling appendages made it hard to target.

Thinking quickly, and seeing that Aragorn had found the one tentacle holding Frodo, she aimed carefully at Sam.

She knew merging spells was dangerous, not to mention highly untested, but she had no choice. " _Diminuendo Avis!_ " Sam was instantly replaced, the halfling gone and a small canary in its place. His clothes and cloak came splashing to the ground as the small yellow bird tumbled down to Hermione's hand. " _Accio_!" The clothes flew into her grasp as Aragorn and Boromir rushed towards her, Frodo in the Gondorian Captain's arms.

"Into the mines!" Gandalf shouted from the doorway as Legolas shot arrows past his head into the creature. Just as they crossed the threshold Hermione gently thrust Canary Sam into Pippin's hands, quickly steering her wand to the doorway.

" _BOMBARDA!_ " She yelled, watching as the archway collapsed behind the men.

The space was instantly dark, their panting breaths the only sound as the rubble settled around them. Soon a glow shone from the end of Gandalf's staff.

"We now have but one choice...we must face the long dark of Moria." He stepped up onto the stairway, careful of the corpses beneath his feet. "Be on your guard...there are older and fouler things than the Orcs in the deep places of the world." He warned, grimly.

"Um... Miss Hermione?" Pippin squeaked. "Is Sam... a bird forever?" He was very carefully holding the small bird in his shaking hands.

The witch gently took the yellow bird and set it on the stone floor. She murmured a drying charm on his clothes, draping the cloak over the feathered creature. " _Finite Incantatem_." She whispered, and the form was quickly replaced by a pale and shaking Samwise Gamgee.

"I-I was a bird. You turned me into a _bird_!" He gasped. "I flew! I-I had wings!" His eyes were wide as he wrapped the cloak around his naked body.

"I promised I wouldn't turn you into anything unnatural, Sam." She smiled gently, trying to calm the hobbit. "Birds are natural, aren't they?"

He gaped at her, his mouth sputtering silently.

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~

Their footsteps echoed through the caverns and hallways as the fellowship carefully made their way through Moria. The path Gandalf chose was through side caverns and hallways, wary of any main halls. Their goal was to make it through the mountain as quickly, and silently, as possible. By Gandalf's estimate their journey would take them four days.

Boromir and Aragorn kept their swords drawn, surrounding the Hobbits as they walked, keeping the halflings close. If they were to come across any goblins or other foul creatures of the dark, the shirelings were the most vulnerable of them all. Having not seen battle it was likely they'd be targeted first.

Hermione's gaze was constantly moving, assessing their surroundings, especially the steep pathways along the inner walls. Leery of any rocks falling, not moved by them, as possible indicators of company. Aside from their steps the silence was deafening, encompassing them in an auricular darkness.

Every few hours Legolas would climb to a higher vantage point, peering into the gloom ahead with his elfsight. Each time he would comment that there wasn't anyone he could see, a particular wording Hermione made note of. He wouldn't say that he didn't see anything, only that there wasn't anything he could see.

She knew what he was trying to reiterate, they needed to remain vigilant. The chances of them truly being alone in these caverns were slim, at best. She briefly pondered what the average lifespan of a goblin could be, seeing as the bodies they discovered were several decades old. If there were any remaining goblin hoards she hoped they were few in numbers.

"Hermione?" She jumped at Legolas' quiet voice. "Are you alright? Your sight is set far away." The elf looked concerned, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

She nodded. "I'm just... concerned, I suppose is the best word." She whispered back to him, attempting to remain as quiet as she could. "We have no idea if we are truly alone in here, or not."

He nodded his understanding. "Our best chances lie in remaining unnoticed. Gandalf wouldn't lead us astray."

It was moments like this that Hermione wished she could only know Gandalf as they did, that his character had not been tainted with the actions of Albus Dumbledore. While she had an immense amount of respect for her former headmaster she was not blind to the choices he made that put others in unnecessary danger, the greater good be damned. There were many times, in hindsight, that he had led Harry towards a martyr's fate.

"You do not trust him." It was not a question and she met the elf's eyes with a guilt filled gaze of her own.

"It is not that I do not trust Gandalf... I have simply learned to... hold him at arms length." She sighed, rubbing a hand over her tired face. "If I really thought about it, I hold everyone at arms length."

He cocked his head to the side in confusion. "I do not understand. You are closer than arms length to me now." As though to demonstrate he simply laid a hand on her shoulder. "See?"

Had they not been hiding in a dwarven mine, staying silent for the sake of their own lives, she'd have probably laughed to the point of tears at the Elven Prince's puzzlement. Hermione realized her idioms may remain lost on her companions. She was no longer home, after all.

"They call that 'turning a phrase', what I said about arm's length. It means, while trusting what someone does or says, be skeptic as well." She smiled, attempting to explain. "Sometimes it's easier to use a saying to convey a thought where I come from."

"I see." He nodded. "I hope I may prove a worthy ally and you need not hold me to a degree of untrust."

She appreciated his candor. She hadn't had the chance to really speak to the Prince on their travels yet, their long trek through the mines proving an apt setting for getting to know her companions.

"Thank you, Legolas. I hope so, too." She looked forward at their companions as the followed Gandalf through the dark. Perhaps she did need to allow herself more trust towards them. She may not be of this world, but she certainly wasn't alone.

"Would you be willing to tell me more about your home? Perhaps the next place we stop to rest?" He asked, a small smile on his face.

Hermione nodded. "Of course, I have a few books in my bag that I could show you." It was, in fact, only a matter of time before her companions would begin to wonder of her past. Should they wish to succeed there could be no secrets.

He eyed the bag that was fastened to her belt. "I've seen you pull many things from that tiny pouch, I should not be amazed you have more inside to share."

She laughed, covering her mouth to contain herself. The witch had noticed the odd looks from her companions when she'd retrieved many supplies from the small bag. Elrond had allowed her to bring several tomes and scrolls along with her, under the instruction that they be returned to Rivendell. She had several jars of healing salves, along with her own potions from her world.

"It's simple magic, Legolas. The bag is... bigger on the inside, I've also charmed it to weigh nothing."

He nodded. "I'd assumed, I noticed you do the same to most of our supplies before we departed Rivendell." The blonde elf smiled. "You truly are a powerful, Istari, Hermione. I am glad you are on this journey with us." He bowed politely before turning, moving towards Aragorn to relieve the ranger of his watch at the rear of their group.

Their conversation resonated with Hermione as she continued walking through the silent mines. She had to admit it was nice to have a simple conversation, many of the exchanges between the companions had been strategy. There was little social interaction, hobbits excepted.

Hermione soon found herself remembering the tent her and her boys had shared on their fugitive decampment, how it wasn't really strategy that won the day. Everything they did was on the fly, decisions made out of despair and lack of time, and they were still only children. Children forced to grow up too fast, to be thrust upon an impossible task when they should have been just a group of students. This was different, though, she thought to shake her self out of her own prior confounded quest. None of the members of their party could be considered a child. All the Hobbits, while immature and free, were still adults. They all carried with them a level of experience that, combined, would inevitably prove priceless.

Experience would not have prepared Hermione for the sights yet to behold on their journey, as she discovered round the next bend into an expansive cavern.

"The wealth of Moria was not found in gold or jewels, as to be expected." Gandalf smiled, turning his staff to light the area below them. "But rather, Mithril."

The darkness gave way to an eerie blue reflection, streams of a shining substance glittering along the abandoned halls. She had read of the material, able to produce the sturdiest chainmail armor light enough to not burden it's wearer. To see it in its raw form it was easy to see the beauty of the mines, despite the dark silence in which they found themselves.

"Bilbo had a shirt of Mithril." Gandalf continued as they walked along the wall path. "Thorin gave it to him after the liberation of Erebor."

Gimli gasped, looking over at the aforementioned Hobbit's nephew beside him. "That was a kingly gift, indeed!"

The wizard nodded, smiling. "Yes it was. I never told him this, you know, but it's worth was greater than the value of the whole Shire."

Hermione chuckled as Frodo's jaw dropped, his hand moving to adjust his vest.

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~

After they had found a place to rest on the third night of their journey, all taking their shifts for watch, the fellowship would continue on their way. By her accounts, if they did not delay, they could potentially reach the passage out by nightfall. They had all found a small room to camp for the night, an easy post to defend. There were several stone benches and tables throught the room, perhaps an old jeweler's workshop. Sam had, with the help of Hermione's stash of herbs in her bag, prepared a very simple meal which was a nice reprieve from the salted meats they had been rationing through most of the mines.

Boromir had been the one to suggest it, having the same conclusion as she had-that they may make it through after their rest and would need their strength to make it to the Lothlorien wood on the other side. The Captain had even helped Sam prepare the meal.

Hermione had been watching the man closely since the incident at the pass. She knew he was a good man, and she could see him struggling to remain firm in the presence of such dark magic. The witch knew, from her experiences with horcruxes, that this wasn't his fault. Even the strongest wills can break when tested by such malevolence.

During the night she was awoken by Aragorn to take next watch. She groggily wrapped her cloak around herself, the fire having died while she slept. As she walked towards the doorway, her wand resting ready in her palm, she noticed Boromir sitting outside the archway.

"Lovely morning isn't it?" He asked as she sat opposite him in the hallway.

"Is it morning? It's hard to tell in here." She smiled. "The darkness can be a bit disorienting when it comes to my timekeeping."

He nodded, looking down at his feet as he kicked a stone aside. "I must apologize, my lady."

"How many times must I ask you _not_ call me my lady?" Hermione sighed. "Apologize for what, exactly? The darkness?"

His head hung, as though he couldn't quite look at her as he replied. "For my behavior on the mountain."

The witch was surprised, she had figured he wouldn't speak of it, for then he'd have to admit that he wasn't himself. That he'd had a moment of weakness, the ultimate admission of defeat for a soldier.

"Boromir..." She took a moment to find her words as she moved to sit beside him. He looked up at her as she spoke, this time. "You are a good man, I know we didn't have the _best_ start in Rivendell, but I do see it now. I think that's why you struggle around the Ring. It is not your fault."

He scoffed. "I should be stronger, not affected by it's darkness."

"That is like saying you'd be strong enough to touch red-hot iron and not be burned by it's heat." She felt, for a moment, like she was facing some Weasley-level stubbornness, here. "The Ring... is alive. It's hard to see, I know, from a bauble. Have you thought, perhaps, it feels if it can weaken your moral character that it can weaken all of ours? You're the Captain of Gondor, the highest Knighthood of your realm! Does that mean nothing?"

Boromir shrugged. "Being a Knight is the highest honor I've ever been bestowed, it is who I am. It is what guides my choices, my decisions. Yet, I have noticed the... pull from that thing." He almost spat the last word, a sign Hermione was grateful for. If he recognized it, he could overcome it. Just as Ron had with the locket.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. She was dealing with the same situation as she'd done with her best friend.

"It makes you feel like you've failed, hasn't it? When you feel it's trying to pull you in?"

He nodded. "I've faced countless hoards of enemies, never back down in the face of my foes. Yet this ring... this tiny insignificant thing makes me feel like the smallest child. Makes me feel like... it knows me better."

Hermione shook her head. "It is trying to change the man you are into a man it can control. You can't let that happen. You are stronger than the Ring, you want to know how I know that?"

Boromir looked up at her, his eyes swimming in guilt.

"It is trying to influence you because it is scared of _you_. If it goes after the one of us with the strongest moral code, for example: A Knight of Gondor, and wins... it'd be unstoppable and be able to return to Sauron. Which is why you can't let it change you." She gently laid a hand on his arm. "I do not wish to lose another friend to the forces of darkness, Boromir. I'm not sure I could."

He chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly before smiling at the witch sitting aside him. "How is it you are so wise for someone so young?" He eyed her for a moment, curiously. "What horrors have you seen?"

The witch sighed. She had only told anyone in middle-earth a very small bit of her past experiences back home, something she had done intentionally. She had only told Eomer a tiny fraction of her adventures with Harry and Ron, but that had been different... they had been sharing more personal things in their conversation.

"There's too many to count. I suppose I can tell you from the beginning, we aren't going anywhere. It's only fair, I suppose, for you to know what I've been through to offer such advice." Hermione settled in, leaning her head back against the stone. "The others don't know, I haven't found the time to tell them. It hasn't felt right, yet, I suppose. I should start at the beginning... When I was eleven years old a woman came to our door and asked to speak to my parents and I about a private school called Hogwarts."

As she began to present her own epic to the Knight she expected to be met with rebuttals of the possible and impossible aspects her past. After all, to someone unfamiliar with the wizarding world, her story would seem just that-a fantastical story that couldn't possibly be true. The feats she had tackled in her youth, even before the age of sixteen, were small by no measure.

Yet Boromir offered more of a physical than conversational response. There was the occasional angered sigh, which came during the explanation of blood purity, or the pacing when she'd explained the horrors her and her classmates faced at the hands of Dolores Umbridge. Hermione found herself carefully side-stepping details about Dumbledore, as she worried she would slip up and call him Gandalf. The last thing they needed on this trek was suspicions that the Istari was an imposter. She had explained what happened with her parents, the whispered raids and, finally, the impromptu camping trip after Bill and Fleur's wedding,

When they'd reached a turning point in her story, the part Hermione feared the most, Boromir could tell. Her breathing had become quick and anxious, her hands beginning to shake. He resumed his seat beside the witch.

"If it is difficult you don't have to continue, from what you have told me so far I've been a fool to question your role to play." He smiled at her gently. She could tell, for a moment, his big brother tone had come out.

"No, this may be the most important part." Taking a shaking breath she looked up at the Knight. "After being on the run with Harry and Ron for months we were captured shortly after Ron came back. The snatchers knew who they had, we weren't exactly unrecognizable even though we had tried. They took us to Malfoy Manor?"

"The... 'ferrett' was a Malfoy, right?" Hermione couldn't tell if he was attempting to be funny or if was trying to be sure he had paid enough attention.

"Yes, it was his family's estate. Voldemort's followers had gathered there, his most loyal officers. His second in command, Bellatrix tortured me for... hours, though it could have been longer." She rolled up her sleeve, loosening her bracer and removing the faint glamour over her arm.

The jarring lines of the word 'mudblood' stared up at Boromir and he saw red.

"Cowards!" He grunted, trying to keep his voice down as the knuckles around the hilt of his sword turned white. "You were _a child_ yet they took you as a prisoner of war."

Hermione nodded, pulling her bracer back on. "We hadn't been children for a long time by that point. This is not my first battle with dark magic, Boromir. I won't stand idly by while another dark Lord attempts to take all that is good from this world. I won't lose anymore friends to one man's quest for power. I swear it."

Boromir stood quickly, offering a hand out to her. As she took it he gripped her forearm, looking her in the eye.

"I swear, on the White Tree of Gondor, that you; Hermione Granger are forever more an ally of the People of Gondor. I will gladly fight by your side to the death, and would be honored to face battle together."

Her jaw dropped at his words. This was no joking matter, as Captain he had every authority to make such a declaration. "Thank you, Boromir. I will gladly fight for the lives of Gondor and it's people." She bowed her head. "The honor is mine, captain."

"You have taught me something my father has declined to, in all my years. Change is inevitable if the old ways have failed."

The witch nodded, happy such a message had been successfully conveyed. "There is something else that may, perhaps, be inevitable..."

Boromir cocked his head to the side, releasing her arm.

"If Aragorn is the heir of Gondor... do you think he'd ever be welcomed back to the White City?" She asked cautiously, knowing the subject to be sensitive if the events at the Council had told her anything.

The Knight sighed, rubbing his neck as he seemed to choose his words carefully.

"He would be welcomed, our people yearn for a King. But he must _want_ to rule. There our disagreement lies." Boromir shook his head. "I was wrong to say Gondor needs no King. We do. But our King has to want us in return."

Hermione wasn't shocked by his words, but she did understand. A ruler needs his people as much as they need them.

"Perhaps, rather than looking at Aragorn as not wanting to rule Gondor, have you ever thought that he doesn't feel worthy of them?" She could tell the question surprised him. It was probably something he hadn't considered. As a man of Gondor, having been born and raised amongst it's people, it would be hard to see it from an outsider's perspective. Aragorn had never lived in Gondor, his family raising him in the north before he was taken in by Elrond as a toddler. He had never known life in the western kingdoms of men. Bloodlines could only run so deep.

Before Boromir could respond they were aware of the rest of the party rising from their slumber. Their watch was ended, their companions would be readying themselves to continue on their journey.

"Consider it, Boromir. Before you are quick to judge a man you don't know." She offered as a final piece of advice to the emotionally torn Captain. Hermione turned back towards the room to help with the packing before they set off, leaving the Knight alone in the hall to gather his thoughts.

The rest of the fellowship was stirring as she entered the makeshift bunk room. Merry and Pippin were attempting to roll away from Sam's efforts to wake them, flailing their tiny arms at the offending hobbit.

"Get up, I will get Gandalf to get you up." The gardener threatened.

The two cousins were quickly out of their bedrolls, rolling the blankets up to go atop their packs. When Sam turned to finish stowing his own gear and cooking supplies, the two were quick to make their unseen faces to his back.

Gimli was ready first, clearly anxious to continue on. Hermione couldn't tell if it was the uneasiness surrounding the now empty halls, or his hope that there still dwelled his kinsmen deeper in the mountain. He stood as she entered, moving to take up post with Boromir until the others were ready. He murmured a low "Morning, lass." as she passed.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" It was Aragorn who asked. He and Legolas were tying the last straps of their own bedrolls, both having packed light enough to instill little efforts in repacking.

She nodded. "Nothing to report, at least."

"And Boromir?" Legolas inquired. "He has said little since the pass."

Hermione could understand their concern, they had all seen his hesitation when ordered to give the Ring back to Frodo. "He is struggling against the Ring, it's no secret. But he is still a good man and we shouldn't forget that remains true."

Aragorn nodded. "Sauron's power is, by no means, an evil easily overcome. He will need our help on this journey, as we will no doubt need ours."

She was glad that the Ranger had taken on a similar opinion when it came to Boromir. Perhaps there was hope for this fellowship to overcome more than just Sauron, but their own impressions of each other.

When all the members were ready Gandalf led them down the corridor, explaining that they should find themselves in the Great Hall of Dwarrowdelf. Goblin graffiti adorned the walls as they continued, Hermione attempting to not notice the ink of choice was blood. The number of skeletons had decreased, but the evidence of battle had not. Many helmets and shields lay cracked or shattered around them, some still holding the skull or arm of its owner.

Gimli looked ahead but the witch could see the tears brimming in his eyes. She couldn't imagine what he must be feeling, seeing nothing but death and destruction in the realm of his people.

As they climbed a set of stairs, steep and narrow along the cavern, Hermione could make out three archways ahead of them. Gandalf had paused at the landing, studying each door in turn. She approached, coming to stand beside him as he turned to her with a strange look in his eyes.

Then she realized, before he even had a chance to speak, what was wrong.

"I have no memory of this place." He whispered.


	9. Chapter 8: The Light Beyond the Bridge

**_Guys, guys, guys! So personally, and this is just me, but it really irks me when authors... I dunno... hold their readers hostage for more reviews, you know what I mean? I don't wanna do that, so I'm gonna be blunt and get to the point: *clears throat* I CRACKED 100 REVIEWS!!!!!! I never set a goal or limit for each chapter, so each review I have gotten is far beyond what I expected when I started this journey!_** ** _This chapter was a bit difficult for me, it's my first real attempt at action/battle. My M Rating is a precaution for scenes like this one, I don't plan to be extremely graphic but this is battle and there's gonna be blood._**

 ** _Here's the obligatory bit about owning no proprietary rights, trademarks or copyrights to Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Warner Bros. and New Line Cinemas... that'd be real nice, though... I could go for some new boots for fall...*sighs*_**

 ** _I'm also gonna go ahead an apologize now for any errors or typos, it's currently 1 in the morning and I have a toddler... so... yea... spellcheck can only do so much._**

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~

The faint dripping of water off the stalagmites suspended from the cavern's ceiling echoed around the Ten Companions, their forms still and unmoving as Gandalf sat in silent concentration. They had been there for hours, stagnant as the wizard delved his memory seeking the correct route. The Hobbits had faded in and out of sleep, napping beneath their cloaks. Boromir sat near them with Frodo, his own cloak draped over the halflings. The Ring bearer seemed more curious of what he could see in the cavern below, staying near the wizard. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas had been rotating watch, alternating between the three of them over several hours.

Hermione kept her wand unsheathed, sitting on a lower step from where Gandalf was perched. She twirled the small horse charm at her wrist, her mind wandering to the Horse Lord who had gifted it to her. She wondered what adventure he might be on, hopeful Saruman had not discovered his suspicions of Wormtongue. She would be lying if she had said she wasn't disappointed their travels hadn't taken them down to the West road, she'd hoped to see him again. She was beginning to tire of the dark, damp mine, wondering what it might be to feel the warm breeze of the Rohan Plains.

"Hermione?" Aragorn sat beside her, shaking her from her thoughts. "Are you alright, do you need to rest?"

"No, I am fine." She looked up to where Gandalf still sat. "Is he even awake? I'm surprised he hasn't said anything for quite a while."

The ranger shook his head. "He seems to be awake, but he has yet to say a word. Though it smells like he's lit his pipe."

Hermione nodded. She has smelled the green leaf and hoped, perhaps, that his habit would induce a memory. While normally she abhorred the act she had noticed the smell wasn't altogether as unpleasant as tobacco had been to her back home.

"You seem displeased." He noted.

The witch had to contain a snort, rolling her eyes. "I'm more worried about the fact we have lingered here for so long. We should keep moving, Aragorn. The longer we stay here the more we risk being discovered. I doubt that Goblins merely slaughtered the dwarves then went on their merry way."

He eyed her curiously. "That's not all, is it?"

She looked up at him, his gaze telling her that she needn't lie to him.

"He knows something. Something dangerous, and he's not telling us which is equally as harmful." She sighed, fiddling with her bracelet again. "I'm no stranger to risk and peril, he knows this. But I can't stand to be ignorant by no fault of my own."

Aragorn nodded, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever risks may come we must face together. You are not alone, Hermione."

She knew he was right. This wasn't her own desolate task to take on. "I just don't like secrets." She whispered.

He squeezed her shoulder, urging her to meet his gaze. "You'll find no secrets with me. I promise."

Hermione nodded, she believed him. He had been nothing but honest with her so far, and she had no reason to believe that would change. A movement below them drew her attention. She stood quickly, her wand ready. A small figure lurked below, moving carefully from ladder to ladder, clearly watching them from the other side of the cavern below. She could make out the gleaming reflection of large, unsettling eyes even from a distance.

"I see it, too." Aragorn whispered beside her. "It's Gollum."

She turned to look at him, the name he'd uttered unfamiliar to her.

"He was the Ring's former carrier, from what Gandalf has told me. Used to be of the River folk, not unlike the Hobbits. He was twisted by the Ring until he became unrecognizable." The Ranger hung his head. "Gandalf had tasked me with finding Gollum after he learned Sauron was looking for the Ring. But his orcs found him first. I had failed."

"You tried, didn't you?" She asked. "It is of little consequence now, right?"

He nodded slowly. "I am surprised to see him here, though. He must have settled in the mines, in the dark away from the world."

Hermione noticed Frodo had moved over to Gandalf, looking down where they'd just seen the creature. He'd clearly noticed their observer, too. She could hear the faint murmur of the wizard as he spoke to the Hobbit.

"He won't come near us, we are too strong and too large a party for him to risk confronting." Aragorn looked down into the cavern. "He is more afraid of us then we are of him, I'm sure."

She looked back down in time to see Gollum retreat to the shadows, his scurrying footsteps echoing slightly. What a poor life that creature must lead, yearning for darkness and solidarity.

"Ah!" The pair turned sharply as the Wizard rose to his feet. "It's this way!"

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as her companions rose to their feet.

"He's remembered!" Merry smiled as he adjusted his cloak. The small hobbit helped his cousin to his feet looking excited as they approached the archways.

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here. When in doubt Master Meriadoc, always follow your nose!" Gandalf smiled down at the halfling.

Hermione felt her anger rise. Follow your nose? This man was said to be the most powerful conjurer known to Middle Earth, and he's choosing the corridor that _smells_ good? She looked to Aragorn who, by his own confused expression, seemed to share a similar sentiment.

She sped up, to walk alongside Gandalf as they descended a narrow stairwell.

"Doesn't smell so foul, huh?" She asked.

"My dear I have lived many lives and must admit my memory is not as sharp as it once was." The wizard sighed, and she could tell in his tone that he was annoyed.

"This is not the same as being lost in a shop, Gandalf!" She whispered harshly. "We cannot afford to wander off, especially if we do not know if this leads us out!"

He looked sharply over at her, the same gaze he might give a disobedient first year at Hogwarts. But she did not back down.

"Do not look at me like that, you know I am right." She scoffed. " _Lumos_."

Her wand lit the corridor ahead, the witch being careful to not misstep on one of the broken tiles. The stairwell was not as wide as she would have liked, but what it lacked in width it made up for in its lack of distance. Soon she noticed an archway at the bottom, carefully moving ahead she stepped through, realizing she was in an expansive space.

"Let us risk a little more light, my dear." Gandalf came to stand beside her. He lifted his staff, as she did her wand.

" _Lumos Maxima_."

Hermione's jaw dropped at the sight before her. Stone pillars, hundreds of feet high, towered above their heads, stretching across the hall before them as far as the eye could see. These were no natural formations, each pillar carved smooth and intricately patterned.

"Behold! The great realm and Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf." Gandalf looked over at her, a small smirk on his face.

It took all she had to not slap the man beside her. There was no need to gloat, they were still far from their goal of leaving the mines.

"There's an eye-opener, and no mistake!" Sam gasped.

Looking back Hermione noticed the look of awe on her companions' faces. Their eyes were as wide as their smiles, taking in a sight none of them had ever had the honor to behold. As they began to move forward, the Hobbits eyes craning upwards to see the remnants of gilded carvings, the witch took more notice of the corpses surrounding them. Not only were there dwarves, but more goblins than had been in prior halls.

They were walking through a battlefield.

"No!" Suddenly, before any of them could stop him, Gimli ran off to a small room off to the right of the hall. He ran through the opened door, ignoring Gandalf's call behind him. A small slanted window in the ceiling lets in the first natural light the fellowship had seen in days, casting the room in an ethereal glow. Carcasses scattered the ground, piled high against the walls, stairs and the lone well in the corner of the room. A single stone catafalque stood in the center, it's white surface beaming in the light.

Gimli dropped to his knees before the marble slab, his shoulders shaking. Hermione knelt beside him, laying a hand on his arm. Reading the inscription on the surface she gasped, looking up and Gandalf who nodded solemnly.

"Here lies Balin... Son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." He sighed, bowing his head as he reached forth to lay his hand atop the stone. "He is dead, then. It is as I feared."

Gimli sobbed, reaching for Hermione's hand as he chanted softly before the grave. "Kilmin malur ni zaram kalil ra narag. Kheled-zâram ... Balin tazlifi."

Beside the stone laid a large tome in the arms of a skeleton. Hermione winced as Gandalf moved the boney arm from the spine. Setting his staff against his shoulder and handing his hat off to Pippin he opened the books, the spine cracking as dust fell from its pages.

"We must move on, Aragorn. We cannot linger." Legolas whispered urgently to the northman. Hermione shot a look over at the elf, hoping Gimli had not heard the warning. He bowed his head slightly, knowing she felt the dwarf had earned the right to grieve his kin.

"They have taken the bridge, and the second hall. We have barred the gates... But cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums... Drums sound in the deep." Gandalf ran his hand along the words, his eyes wide with concern. "We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. They are coming."

Suddenly a loud crash exploded through the room. Legolas had an arrow knocked, turned towards the well in the corner where Pippin jumped back from a headless skeleton, half of a rusted arrow in his hand. A chain was rapidly being pulled into the well, a bucket being drug from the floor over the edge, bringing the body with it. He avoided the gaze of his companions, wincing as the body loudly clattered down the dried well.

When the final reverberation died out Gandalf rushed over to the Hobbit.

"Fool of a Took!" He grunted, wrenching his hat back from the halfling. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

Pippin hung his head, looking like a scorned puppy as a low boom was heard from the well. He turned, his eyes wide with fear as another beat followed, then another.

"Mr. Frodo!" Hermione looked over as Sam spoke, noticing a blue glow coming from the ringbearer's scabbard. Soon the cries and howls echoed from the hall outside, moving closer. She ushered the Hobbits back against the wall, standing before them with her wand and dagger drawn. Her heart ached as she saw them draw their swords, arms shaking in fear.

"Orcs!" Legolas turned, quickly moving to close the doors.

"Get back!" Aragorn warned the hobbits, himself moving to the door with his sword drawn. "Stay close to Hermione and Gandalf!"

Boromir looked out into the hall, narrowly avoiding an arrow fired past his face. He jerked back, quickly slamming the door behind him.

"They have a cave troll." He shouted exasperatedly as he began moving some loose stones against the door with Aragorn, thrusting spears through the handles to bar them shut. Just as they place the final lance the doors lurch forward; the fight was here.

Gimli wrenched an axe from the grasp of one of the corpses, jumping up onto the Tomb. "Let them come! There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!" He shouted, fuming with anger that the enemy who had slain his people still lived within the mountain.

The doors begin to shake, the sound of metal on wood echoing in the room. Soon splinters of the door fall away, revealing the terrifying faces of goblins scrambling against the door. Legolas fires an arrow through the hole, striking one of them dead.

Suddenly the faces retreat just as the door gives way with a final boom and the squadron of goblins bursts in, their troll lumbering in behind them.

Hermione begins shouting hexes and curses as fast as she can, rushing forward as the Hobbits follow behind her. She fires spells at the goblins she can't reach, slashing at those she can.

One notices her, momentarily surprised at the sight of a woman. She uses this to her advantage, aiming her wand directly at the creature.

" _Expulso!_ " She shouts, sending the goblin flying, straight into Gimli's axe. He turns to her, an adrenaline induced gleam in his eyes.

"Aye, lass! *That's* how you fight!" He yells, turning in time to behead another goblin. The cave troll turns his attention to the dwarf, lifting a giant club over his head.

"Gimli!" She cried, quickly tackling him out of the way as the troll crushes the tomb he had been standing on. They slam to the floor, the stone scraping against Hermione's face. Clamoring to their feet the pair were thrust back into the fray.

Boromir and Aragorn flank the troll, each bringing a sword slashing down on whichever limb they can reach. The beast sweeps the ranger aside, moving to bring its truncheon down hard on the man but is thwarted as the Captain of Gondor slices its arm. Sickly green blood spews from the wound as the creature howls in pain, swinging haphazardly around itself.

Hermione attempts to spot the Hobbits, as though trying to find a child in a crowd. She sees Sam first, swinging his saucepan hard against a goblin's head. He nods sharply as the foe falls to the ground, pitching the utensil at another. Merry and Pippin are back-to-back on the stairs, stabbing any goblin they can reach while Gandalf attempts to keep as many of the vermin away from the halflings.

She panics as she realizes she doesn't see Frodo. Carefully dodging blows from all sides Hermione attempts to circle the room, more enemies feeding in through the splintered doorway. She notices the Troll peaking around a pillar on the top mezzanine of the room, and she recognizes the slight glow against the wall.

Sting.

Thinking as quick as she can she aims her wand at the troll, but before she can utter a spell she is tackled yo the ground, a screeching goblin scratching away at her face and neck. She howls in pain, bringing the dagger up and stabbing her attacker in the neck. Pushing the limp body off herself she looks up just in time to see Frodo jumping from the mezzanine to escape the troll. But she realizes, before he does, that he's cornered himself.

"Frodo, NO!" She yelled just as the troll lifts a Dwarven lance and stabs him through the stomach lifting him against the wall. His eyes went wide, his mouth open in a silent scream as he falls to the ground. She runs across the room, stumbling across the bodies that have littered the floor as Merry and Pippin jump from the balcony onto the monster. Sam, too, joins the fray; rushing forward to stab and slash at the troll's legs. While the beast struggles to remove the halflings from its back it doesn't notice the witch point her wand at it, taking a clear shot at it's soft belly. Nor does it see the elf with an arrow aimed straight at it's head.

" _Petrificus totalus!_ " Hermione cried as Legolas let loose his arrow. The troll went stiff as a board just as the arrow pierced through below its chin. By the time the creature had fell to the floor it was dead. There was a moment of stillness as the battle had ceased. They had won, the floor covered with the blood and bodies of dozens of goblins.

She ran over, pulling Merry and Pippin off the giant body. The halflings sobbed, clutching her with their backs turned to where Frodo had fallen. She collapsed to the ground, holding her boys tightly as she began to cry with them.

Sam clamored over the bodies but collapsed at the sight of Aragorn kneeling beside the ringbearers body. "Oh, Frodo." The ranger whispered sadly, moving to pull the halfling to him. As he rolls him over the group is stunned as Frodo takes a gasping breath.

"He's alive!" Sam whooped, rushing over as his friend leaned heavily against the wall. Hermione beamed as Merry and Pippin looked up, seeing their friend sit up and hugged the witch again; this time out of exhausted relief.

"I'm all right... I'm not hurt." Frodo assured him as he rubbed at his chest.

"You should be dead!" Aragorn sputters out, surprised. "That spear would have skewered a wild boar!"

Gandalf staggered over to them, supporting himself on the pillar. "I think there is more to this Hobbit than meets the eye.

Frodo pulled away the buttons of his shirt to reveal a glittering chain mail shirt, white as marble. Gimli gasped from behind the wizard.

"Mithril!" He barks out a laugh. "You are full of surprises Master Baggins!"

Boom. They all tense as another drum sounds in the distance. Hermione looks up as Boromir rushed to the door. He barely has a moment to look out before he turns to his companions. "Now!"

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!" Gandalf shouted, beckoning them to follow the Captain.

Moving quickly, the fellowship scrambled out into the hall, just as the chamber was filled with hoards of goblins. The creatures scurried along the walls and pillars like insects, closing in on the group.

"This way!" The wizard shouted, turning them at what seemed an indistinguishable pillar. They hadn't made it a hundred meters before the companions had found themselves encircled.

The cackling faces staring back at them were as grotesque as they were terrifying. Hermione held her wand steady, blood running down her cheek. Gandalf stood beside her, sword and staff raised, the stone at its end glowing brightly.

That was it. Light. These were creatures of darkness. She shut her eyes, knowing full well that she could be making a deadly mistake. She thought hard, remembering the happiest moment of her life. When was the last time she was truly happy, truly at peace? Hermione had found herself torn from her own world, thrust into another war of dark magic and surrounded by monsters of the deep, she couldn't possibly think of anything happy...except... she opened her eyes and saw the small horse charm had remained on her wrist, bloodied and dirty.

Taking a deep breath she aimed her wand just ahead of her. " _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ " She screamed as loud as her lungs would allow and soon the Great Dwarf Hall was filled with a blinding light as a large otter burst forth from her wand, circling around her and the others.

The goblins shrieked in pain, shielding their eyes as they scurried away. Their yells and screams echoed in the hall as the light slowly faded. Hermione felt herself wobble, only to be caught by Aragorn before she fell to the ground from exhaustion.

"Well done, Miss Granger." Gandalf gasped. "That was bril-"

A loud, low growl filled the room. They all turned to see an angry orange glow coming from the opposite end, swaying like a flame. A deep thudding echoed as the glow became brighter.

"What is this devilry?" Boromir asked, moving to help Aragorn support the witch.

Gandalf looked sadly at Hermione and she realized, then, that this was what he had feared in the mines. Not the Goblins. It was this. The orange glow had grown, encompassing the chamber entirely as a dark shadow emerged, growing ever closer.

"A Balrog ... a demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you!" Looking quickly ahead of them he pointed with his staff. "Run! Quickly!"

Hermione felt herself lifted into Boromir's arms, her head throbbing as he ran quickly behind the others. Looking over his shoulder she saw a giant hellion, standing forty feet tall. Horns thrust from a face of molten shadow and a long whip of hellfire in its grasp. Turning down a narrow doorway they found themselves in a maze of stairs and pathways, the stone a reddish hue from a fire burning deep below them.

"Lead them on, Aragorn! The bridge is near!" She looked back to see Gandalf leaning against a wall, struggling down the last few steps. The ranger moved to help him but was shoved away. "Do as I say! Swords are of no use here!"

Moving hastily down the steep, unrailed stairs the group found themselves trapped as a large chunk of staira fell away before their feet. Legolas jumped first, easily clearing the gap.

"I'm going to have to throw you, Hermione." Boromir stated bluntly, tossing her down to the elf before she had a chance to rebute. She screamed before she was caught gently by the Elven archer. He set her down, making sure she was stable before turning back to catch the Hobbits.

Hermione steadied herself, wiping the blood from her face and neck when she felt and arrow fly past her arm. Pointing her wand in the general direction it had come she merely thought ' _Bombarda_ ' and a small balcony exploded outwards sending a half dozen goblin archers flying into the chasm below.

Soon all but Aragorn and Frodo had crossed when more of the stairs ahead of them fell away. As they steadied themselves a large stone came crashing down from the ceiling, breaking the stairs behind them. The column that remained swayed heavily, teetering like a child's toy.

"Hold on, Frodo!" Aragorn shouted but Hermione could see fear in his eyes. She would not lose them.

Pushing past Boromir she pointed her wand at the pair, fixating on their forms. "*Wingardium Leviosa!*" With a swish and a flick of her wand she gracefully lifted the ranger and the hobbit across the gap, setting them down gently before her.

"Run!" Aragorn shouted as they had landed.

As they descended the final stairwell they had come upon the landing before the Bridge. Fissures spewed flame and steam all around them, the mountain burning from the inside.

"Hurry! Over the bridge! Fly!" Gandalf shouted, beckoning across the narrow sliver of stone over the abyss.

One by one they ran, not daring to look down or back. A thunderous roar echoed as they reached the other side.

Turning Hermione saw that Gandalf had paused in the middle of the Bridge, facing the Balrog who had appeared before him bathed in flame. Aragorn stood beside her, his sword still drawn ready to fight this demon.

"You cannot pass!" The Istari shouted, his staff beaming brightly in a contrasting white light. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn."

The Balrog seemed to smirk at this challenge, moving carefully on the landing approaching the gray wizard. Gandalf drew his sword, Glamdring, the sound of ringing metal reverberating through the drone of the roaring fires. The Balrog lifts a sword of shadow and flame, bringing it down on the wizard's own sword. Gandalf pushes back, blocking its strike.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" He boomed, his voice echoing across the chasm. As the Balrog places one foot on the bridge, unfurling the whip of molten metal and hellfire, Gandalf brings his sword and staff down hard against the stone, cracking the surface before him. The bridge crumbles under the demons weight and the Balrog falls away with the stone.

Gandalf turns, a brief look of relief on his face as he meets Hermione's gaze, before the end of the whip reaches forth from the darkness and pulls the wizard's legs out from beneath him. He grasps for a bit of stone as his sword and staff are knocked out from beneath him.

"NO!" Frodo screamed as he tried to rush by but is caught by Boromir who holds him back. Hermione attempts the same but is stopped as Aragorn holds out an arm to block her.

"Fly you fools!" Gandalf gasped before falling away into the nothing below. Hermione screamed in anger and despair, trying to push past Aragorn with all her might.

"Albus!!" She wails, tears and blood streaming down her face as she claws at the ranger holding her back. "No!"

"Aragorn!" Boromir shouts, holding an equally distraught Frodo.

Aragorn pulled Hermione away as the stone ceiling gives way, crushing the remnants of the Bridge. Arrows begin to patter on the surrounding floor, scraping against the stone. The witch kicked and screamed, begging to be taken back, that she could save him, that she couldn't watch him die again, not again.

He carried her until he saw the archway bathed in the sunlight, the beams pouring in through the smoke and dust. As he crossed the threshold of the Dimrill Dale doorway he collapsed to the ground, the sobbing woman no longer struggling but clinging to him.

"I could have saved him! He didn't need to die again, not again." She whispered, her shoulders shaking.

"Hermione. Look at me." He lifted her head to meet his gaze, as bloodshot as her own. "We have to keep moving, you know that."

"We have to sa-" She sobbed, not able to finish her sentence. He gently stood, pulling her with him. She wrapped her arms around herself, her core shaking.

"Legolas!" He shouted to the elf consoling Merry. "Get them up!"

Boromir fumed at the words. "Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" He yelled.

Aragorn turned back to the Captain. "By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come now Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up!" He moved over to where Sam sat weeping on a large stone.

"On your feet, Sam." He helped pull the hobbit to his feet, squeezing his shoulder gently.

Looking around the ranger noticed that the ring-bearer wasn't in sight. Just as he went to call his name he saw Hermione walking towards a small figure who had walked away from the company.

The witch stopped the halfling with a gentle tug at his arm. Frodo turned, his expression numb aside from the tears steadily falling from his eyes. She kneeled down, pulling him in for a tight hug, both of them grieving for the friend they'd just lost. For one of them goodbye was harder the second time around.

~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~


	10. Authors Note

Hi Everyone,

I wanted to let you all know that I have not abandoned this story, however I am currently in the process of a very mentally draining Divorce with my Ex-Husband. A court date has been set, and with that hopefully peace of mind.

I will continue this story, I have too many ideas floating around in my head and I've been writing them down to keep them in line.

I'll update as soon as I am mentally able.

I love you all.

LoyalIntrovert


End file.
